Drops of Jupiter
by wouldtheywriteasongforyou
Summary: A love triangle between Nico, my own-character Cori, and Percy. Romans & Greeks don't mix. At all. What will happen once the son of Hades & the daughter of Jupiter fall in love? Add in a little past, a not-completely-forgotten love between Percy & the daughter of Jupiter, and suddenly you're playing with Greek fire! "Drops of Jupiter" is by Train. T-Swizzle, yo.
1. Back in the Atmosphere

**Author's Note: Hi everybody! I've been working on this Percy Jackson FanFic for awhile (I think I started this in May 2012...? I know it was forever-ago). This is my first Percy Jackson FanFic, so um, sorry if I screw up details or if it's not perfect anything like that. *smiles apologetically***

**This is sort of a song-fic...I guess? The title _Drops of Jupiter_ is the name of the song by Train (but I listen to the Taylor Swift version more), and the chapter names are lyrics from that song. The song provides me with some inspiration and serves as a loose outline for the fanfic, but other than that, the song has pretty much nothing else to do with the story. It's debatable whether the many allusions to California are because of my current Train obsession, but that's another rambling conversation for later (:  
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**Here are some things you should know: Pairing—NicoXOwnCharacter. Genre—Romance/Adventure. Rated—T (I swear/cuss and imply mature themes. And there will be some action-fighting. It might not be as amazing as The Avengers action flicks, but it will still be kick-ass). Original Setting—Camp Jupiter (the ROMAN CAMP). POV—First person, OC (Own Character), present-tense. Time Period: Um, right now?**

**Disclaimer:** **_Não sou Rick Riordan_. ****(I am not Rick Riordan for all you people who can't speak Portuguese. Neither can I, by the way. I opted to learn Latin instead of Spanish in high school. And the Portuguese incorporated into the story is pretty basic and self-explanatory, but if you need help translating I'll whip out my handy-dandy language converter on the internet [shh, don't tell anyone but that's what I used in the first place to translate the English in this story into Portuguese] and I'll PM you the translation. And feel free to correct me on it. I'm no good at grammar in other languages.) So, in case you haven't figured it out yet, I do not own the Percy Jackson series. And any scenes that do not correlate with the canon Percy Jackson plot line is due to the fact that Mr Riordan did not feel it necessary to share them with me before he published any of his books. Glad we got that cleared up.**

**PS: I don't own any of the song lyrics either. I'm not Gotye, Train, Selena Gomez, or The Beatles. Just call me wouldtheywriteasongforyou and we'll be good. Okay? 'Kay.**

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**Train~ "Now that she's back in the atmosphere..."  
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Chapter One: Back in the Atmosphere

**_The Strawberry Fields  
Camp Half-Blood  
Present Time_**

Frizzy blonde curls and stormy grey eyes is all my tired eyes can register right now. The person owning that unmanageable mane of blonde hair stares at me sadly. A quick shake of her head and my hopes plummet.

"I'm really sorry," is all she says.

A tight smile graces my face, but something tells me that a scowl would have been easier to put on. For his sake more than mine, I nod my head and pretend that her words are what I need to hear.

A subtle shift occurs in her facial expression. Pity and sorrow are no longer etched across her face; a callous, unyielding directness replaces her former emotions. "Cori, you're being delusional."

I flinch at the harsh intensity of her words. I know she believes me to be ignorant and naïve for wanting to believe in his existence even though we have not seen or heard from him in years.

"Look. I know that you loved him. But all the love in the world won't bring him back." She takes a deep breath and pats my shoulder sympathetically. "It won't be easy, but please try, Cori. Try to live and forget."

I blink and stare into those grey eyes of logic. I am reminded as to why I never really did like her in the first place. Sure, she's all brains and wisdom, but when it comes to feelings...well, she never _has_ gotten the hang of dealing with her own emotions let alone other people's emotions.

"I thought you would understand," I say simply in an even, nonjudgmental voice. I remember a story of once upon a time when she spent over two months looking for her own boyfriend. Sure, two months versus three years is a big difference time-wise, but the circumstances are still pretty much the same. Long ago perhaps I would have blamed her for hypocrisy and screamed at her until the skies were crying alongside with me, but I am no longer the emotionally unstable teenager I used to be.

She inhales sharply. "All I'm trying to do is help," she replies.

If I desperately wanted to, I would hear the faint twinge of annoyance marring her perfectly amiable tone. But seeing that I do not want to listen closely and make this conversation into some big dramatic production, I ignore all of the negative and less-than-friendly vibes she gives off.

"I know you're trying to help me out, Annabeth. But you're not." I'm not trying to accuse her of anything, but on some subconscious level I guess I do blame her for not feeling some sort of empathy and not understanding how I feel.

I can tell that she's thinking of this conversation as a chess game. She is trying to plan out every action and sentence four moves in advance. I can't exactly blame her — it is the way her brain is wired thanks to her mum. But she should really learn that people are not the same as her inanimate puzzles of logic.

"He's still out there," I say with a strong emphasis on my usage of present tense. "Please stop trying to convince me otherwise. I just...I just know he's still here. On Earth. I guess it's like the same way you knew Percy was still alive back when he was sent to the Roman camp."

I can see that Annabeth really wants to refuse my analogy. Her body tensed up at the mention of Percy disappearing to the Roman camp. All of the gears in her over-worked mind are refusing to comply with the words I say.

"No, Cori," she says resolutely. "Nico is _not_ alive. You need to get over the fact that after a certain number of years, a person will not return. It's just not rational to keep clinging to this non-existent thread of hope. _Please_, Cori. Stop thinking like an emotionally ruled Greek and embrace the reasonable, level-headed Roman part of your mind: _Nico is not alive_."

"You're wrong," I say back. "You are completely wrong, Annabeth."

The older girl shakes her head numbly. "No, I am not. Cori, he's been gone for three years. No one's been able to find any traces of him. Please just face the facts and admit it to your heart and brain that Nico is no longer alive."

"But he is," I contradict her stubbornly.

Annabeth sighs. "Fine, then. Prove it." It's obvious from her challenging tone that she believes me to fail her demand.

I shake my head gently. "I don't have to." I close my eyes and tap my heart. "I just know."

"And that's where you are erroneous!" Annabeth nearly explodes out of frustration. This argument based completely on faith and belief and not logic is driving her mental.

"We could always ask Pluto," I murmur in a light voice. I know better than to look into her eyes when I offer this suggestion. Annabeth hasn't been very...friendly towards the gods lately.

Annabeth glares at me sharply. "We are _not_ getting the gods involved."

I bend down and pluck a fat ripe little strawberry off of one of the vines trailing across the pathway. "And why is that?" I ask Annabeth mildly as I examine the red fruit I am holding in my hand. I know exactly why, but I would really like to hear her say it once more.

My irritated companion just heaves another annoyed sigh. "You _know_ why, Corina. Stop being so dense."

"You heard it for yourself, Annabeth," I tell her in a more curt tone. I do not appreciate that she called me by my first name, but I do not directly correct her on the mistake she made. "Gaea told us that Nico has been captured by her cronies during his search for the Doors of Death."

She huffs. "You don't have any proof validating her words, Cori. And we got that tidbit of information _weeks_ ago. Lots of things could have happened since then to change to the circumstances."

I stare at her sceptically. That is a pretty weak argument coming from the daughter of Minerva. I recall a conversation I had with Percy four years earlier when he told me that Annabeth could kick everybody's ass in a debate. So far I really don't see that happening right now.

I gently drop the strawberry back to the ground and give a quick prayer to Bacchus that he does not mind me wasting one of his precious fruits. Then, I continue walking through the strawberry fields, Annabeth trailing — more like stomping reluctantly — behind me.

Besides Annabeth's heavy footsteps, it is pretty much peaceful and quiet out here in Camp Half-Blood's strawberry fields. I muse to myself awhile. I have been here in the Greek camp off-and-on for the past three years as I wait for Nico's return. Living is relatively easy with eyes closed, misunderstanding all that I can see. But I really don't want to live that way, reading into every word other people say. I would simply rather wait forever for Nico to come back to me than to give up like everybody — mainly Annabeth — pressures me to do.

I sigh to myself. Greek and Roman campers keep telling me that they are searching as hard as they can for Nico, but I have a feeling that they have given up just like Annabeth. The search parties are pretty incompetent at tracking and are sent out every now and then instead of every day like they used to after he first went missing. Nobody lets me go out and look for Nico because they're claiming that it is too dangerous for a child of the Big Three to be out of camp boundaries. But of course, Percy gets to go out regularly and roam the oceans and whatnot. The rules of the world are pretty twisted these days.

The gods have been acting pretty odd too. They are revealing their powers a lot more these days, and their behaviour is getting a little restless. Jason claims that it is because the prophecy hasn't been fulfilled yet. I keep insisting that the prophecy will never be completed without Nico's help. Naturally, my thoughts and opinions are brushed aside.

My vision blurs suddenly. I quickly and furiously swipe a hand across my eyelids to dispel the mortifying tears. I hate to look weak, but Nico has reduced me to this. As much as I try to fight it, without him I have become a pitiful shell of my former lively and vibrant self. These past three years have really done a number on me.

Gods, I miss him so much.

"Hey, Cori?" Annabeth calls out to me in a more civil tone than she has been using lately. I turn around slowly and look at her questioningly. "I'm gonna go now. Percy just arrived."

I dip my head in acknowledgement, and my mouth quirks up in some funny looking half-smile expression at the sound of Annabeth's eager voice to go see Percy. Annabeth hurries out of the strawberry field in search of her boyfriend. He had been gone for a couple of days in another fruitless search for Nico. I watch Annabeth's face transform into one of the biggest smiles I have ever seen as she and Percy run to each other and embrace. I turn away to give them some privacy when they start to kiss.

A faint twinge of jealousy pricks at me. Annabeth looks so happy in Percy's arms. Why couldn't she be supportive of the fact that all I wanted was for Nico to be here so I could kiss him and laugh and hear the sound of his voice and hold his hands and just for him to _be_ here so he could be mine once more? More tears threaten to cascade down my face, but I will the offending dampness to disappear. I sit down in the middle of the strawberry fields and wipe my eyes once more. The scent of the ripe, tiny red berries suddenly becomes overwhelming to the point where it starts to get intoxicating, but I don't mind. I am the one to blame for intruding in their short little strawberry life.

Despite the fact that Camp Half-Blood shouldn't be able to be affected by weather changes, I manage to darken the sky above the fields into a similar colour that replicates how it looks whenever Nico is around — dark and gloomy. To make this look more like a cliché movie scene, I add in some rain and drop the temperature a couple of degrees so my breath comes out in foggy puffs. I am mildly surprised that the weather complies with my wishes — at Camp Half-Blood, it normally only rains when Jupiter is angry. I try not to dwell on that fact right now and move onto more pressing matters.

Where the hail is Nico?

I scowl angrily at the ground and shoot laser beams down at his father. Metaphorical laser beams, of course. Apollo, the god of prophecy, only knows what would happen to me if I ever tried to incinerate a god.

I decide that I don't care what Annabeth said earlier about not getting the gods involved. I _have_ to know what has happened to my boyfriend.

"Knock, knock," I say loudly to the ground as I rap my knuckles against the soft, muddy earth. "Pluto, it is Corina Santos. Nico's girlfriend. I would like to talk to you, if you don't mind."

No response. Figures. Nico's father is rather on the uncongenial side of the Roman god spectrum. Pluto's reticent demeanour would clearly explain Nico's independence and need for isolation.

Nico. My breath catches in my throat as I conjure up an image of him in my mind. His dark, haunting eyes and the tousled mess of inky black hair is as familiar and comforting to me as the sky and the heavens my father rules over. His presence is always known to me, but to others, he can practically become invisible and hide in the shadows. With my mind's eye, I see his sinfully long and curled eyelashes that I am terribly jealous of. I make my way down his nose to his strong jaw and the irresistible pair of pink lips he owns. In the real world, I press my fingertips to my lips and lightly kiss them. Now that Nico isn't here, this is all I have left of him: memories and a phantom kiss or touch every now and then.

All of the sudden, the ground trembles violently beneath my feet. Fear grips my spine and paralyses my body. A fissure in the earth appears nearby and is quickly tearing up the dirt as it rapidly enlarges itself by the second. This gaping chasm is growing and growing and I cannot seem to force myself to run away and escape this terrible earthquake. The ground gives one loud shudder and I can feel the vibrations rattle all throughout my bones. The force of the seismic wave causes me to stumble. I tumble down to the mud and the earthquake practically forces me to slide down to the opening of the bottomless black pit.

All around me, the rain continues to keep falling even though I am desperately trying to fight it off. The water droplets cling to my hair, clumping it in damps strands that I have to keep shaking out of my face. The rain flows down off my body and dampens the mud beneath me even more. Soon, I am pretty much stuck in the muck.

Belatedly, I realise that The Big Three brothers are all in attendance here in the strawberry fields of Camp Half-Blood. My father, Jupiter, has been helping keep these lovely weather conditions going on. Neptune is the one who created the earthquake that is slowly beginning to subside now that I toppled over and onto the ground. And as for Pluto, I am taking a wild guess and I figure that he must be down somewhere in this mysterious, shadowy hole that the earthquake opened up.

The fact that the three most powerful gods are here does not seem to bode well for me.

Mist and a menacing fog rise up out of the abyss as if this were some archetypical scary movie. Since I am trapped in the sticky mud, I am practically forced to watch this horrific scene unfurl before me. The sky darkens until my eyes can barely detect the dark hole in the ground from the sky above my head. The rain continues to drench the world around me until the scent of strawberries is replaced by wet earth and a musty, putrid smell rising from the fissure. The earthquake has subsided by now, but from the way my skin is prickling when it touches the rainwater on the ground, I can tell that Neptune is still here. Somehow, his presence has made this once-freshwater rain turn into saltwater upon contact with the land. I can only pray that my father does not send a bolt of lightning near and electrocute me by accident.

Randomly, fire jets up out of the newly created gorge in the ground. The flames hiss and splutter as they come in contact with the rain still pouring down from the skies, but the blaze does not go out. Rather, the fire continues to rise as high as it dared before the rain smothers out the crimson and golden light. The heat is scorching, and the rain only adds a damp mugginess to the air instead of cooling and dispelling the formidable warmth of the fire.

Pluto, Jupiter, and Neptune sure are terrifying when they are together.

The rain continues to fall steadily, but now some of the raindrops hit the ground and transform into sparkling gems before sinking beneath the mud. Some of the rain stays and carry on shifting into saltwater drops, but my interest is piqued by these new water-to-diamonds that are changing right before my eyes.

I am so distracted by the gemstones that I totally miss Pluto's dramatic entrance.

"Corina Santos," I hear his cold, oily voice hiss.

My head shoots up and I stare into the blinding flames where Pluto is making his appearance. Trepidation starts radiating throughout my body when my eyes connect with those bottomless and tortured eyes of his, and I feel my body temperature grow noticeably colder as if he is trying to leech out my life force just because I am a living creature within his presence. Out of my peripheral vision, I see that the strawberry plants have not fared much better and are either black and frost-bitten or drenched and drowning in the high saline concentration that they are being subjected to because of Neptune.

"I hear you have been looking for my son," Pluto says, his voice low and menacing.

I want to get up and be the strong, admirable, and confident character that I normally am, but this mud grabs a hold of me, drags me down, and renders my legs and feet immobile. I hate this submissive position that I am in, but I guess I have to suck it up and deal. Obviously, Pluto has me down on the ground in his mercy for a reason. Maybe because it is for an egotistical reason, or maybe because he believes that it is in my best interest to stay out of the zone where the heat of the flame scorches the nearby landscape. Nah, who am I kidding? Of course it's for narcissistic reasons. After all, this is insecure and under-represented Pluto I am talking about.

I gather my courage and look up at Pluto. Seriously, he needs to consider toning down the intensity of those flames or I might end up blind and incinerated. Immediately, the rain falls harder and beats the fire down into acquiescence as if it is reprimanding the flames in response to my thoughts.

_Thanks, Jupiter_, I think. In answer, a feeling as warm as golden liquid sunshine infuses my body and erases the stinging bitter cold of the rain momentarily.

Now that Pluto is no longer looming over me in that big fire of his, I stare into the dimmed-down light and say: "Yes, I have been looking for Nico, Pluto."

The Lord of the Underworld grumbles at me and the chasm widens almost imperceptibly. "And why are you so adamant to do so?"

I look the god straight into his eyes. "Because I love him. I never stopped and I never will. I need to learn of Nico's exact whereabouts, Pluto. It's killing me to live life without him." The words tumble out of their own accord, but I can immediately sense that it is not wise to bring up the word 'kill' in the presence of the god of death.

"What if you learned that he does not reciprocate those feelings?" Pluto questions me, a grating edge in his voice sharpening his words.

"I'll cross that bridge when I get there," I respond calmly. Inside my overactive mind, I try to quell down the doubts and negative thoughts Pluto's comment triggered. I desperately hope that Pluto does not realise how much his words affect me.

The fire suddenly crackles and pops and a few sparks jump out. It takes all my will power not to jump away from the intense, blistering heat. Pluto rises up in his column of flames again and looms down over me, hissing in my face. "You and that fool of a son of mine have wrecked terrible havoc between the gods! Such 'love' you claim between the two of you cannot repair the damage created!"

I just look up impassively at Pluto. "Is this the point in the conversation where I am supposed to say 'sorry'? Because I'm not." I sit up in the mud and cross my arms over my chest defiantly. I know I am serving him a big dose of attitude, but in all honesty, Pluto deserves it.

Pluto snarls at me. "You two have single-handedly managed to create the biggest rift between the twelve Olympians. And what for? Just so you can attract double the monsters whenever you two want to be together?"

I frown. "When two people really love each other, the fact that they are two children of the Big Three means _nothing_ to them. Love conquers all, or did you not realise that when you had to kidnap your own wife?"

Thunder rumbles warningly in the distance. I huff. I know that my last comment was uncalled for, but I don't feel much remorse for saying it. However, Jupiter seems resolute that I have to apologise to my uncle.

"Sorry," I mutter to Pluto.

All he does is scowl at me. He doesn't even acknowledge my apology. Ungrateful god.

I am determined to prove the point that Nico's and my love is not a frivolous, silly infatuation. Why does the world not see how serious we are about each other? Oh, yeah. Maybe because my boyfriend hasn't been around in three years. And whose fault is that for not searching hard enough for him? I want to bash my head into the ground to let out my frustration with the mythological world.

"Neptune," I begin as I start a new approach to address my argument. Maybe I should have been labelled as the child of Minerva if my debating skills are outshining Annabeth's these days. Oops. I'm off-topic and all the gods are looking at me questioningly.

I take a deep breath and continue with my train of thought. "You are okay with Percy dating Annabeth, aren't you? And they are supposedly enemies considering that she's the daughter of Minerva and he's your son, right?" I turn back to the Loch Ness-sized hole in the ground and arch an eyebrow at Pluto. "So I don't get it, Pluto. Why is it such a big deal if the daughter of Jupiter and the son of Pluto decide that they want to be together?"

Neptune answers my question instead of his brother. "It's a whole different situation, Coral," he says. A faint smile alights upon my face when he uses his nickname for me. But the smile fades when he continues on. "Percy and Annabeth, sure they are a dynamic duo, but their power combined is nothing compared to when you and Nico are together. Percabeth, as everyone fondly calls them, could be something like the ocean currents: spontaneous and occasionally unpredictable but relatively conventional. You and Nico, on the other hand, are more like an active underwater volcano: explosive. So do you see the problem there, Cori? Olympus can't handle explosive when we are recovering from Typhon's attack and are preparing for the Prophecy of Seven to be fulfilled sometime in the very near future. And now with this new prophecy also waiting to be completed..."

I can't see where Neptune is, so I just look at the saltwater pooling on the ground when I respond. "You do realise that both prophecies will never be fulfilled without Nico's help, right? So wouldn't it be in everyone's best interest to work a bit harder on trying to find him?"

The fire in the pit flares out indignantly. "Do you think that we have not tried our hardest?" Pluto snarls at me.

I shrug. "I honestly can't say that I knew that considering that the gods and demigods aren't collaborating and sharing thoughts much these days." I look up at the rain. "And yes, Jupiter, I am talking to you. This severance in communication is not doing any of us any favours. In fact, it is only serving as a weakness for us right now." I turn around in the sticky mud and glance back at the faint glowing lights of Camp Half-Blood. "I bet that half the campers would shit bricks if they saw me talking to all three of you right now because over a quarter of them have never even seen or talked to a god."

Neptune grumbles at this. "Listen to your daughter, Jupiter. She speaks of truth."

"She directs all blame to us!" Pluto shouts back. "She believes that it is our entire fault even though demigods are also to blame about this lack of communication. For years demigods have not been properly worshipping us or respecting our powers and realms! Why _should _we collaborate with those ungrateful little demons?"

I stare at Pluto in shock and disgust. "What, you want us to kiss the ground that you walk on?" I scowl at the god. "You already have me trapped here in the mud! How much respect from me did you think you would garner with that little stunt?"

Jupiter interrupts before my temper can get the best of me. "Cori, _amor_, we did not go through all of this trouble to meet up with you just so you could criticise our ways," he chides me.

Guilt courses through me when I hear him say that. "Sorry, _pai_," I mumble.

"Apology accepted," he answers back. "Now, then. I am not banishing the rule about minimum contact between the gods and demigods. I believe that is in our best interests —demigod and gods alike — to keep the rule enforced. Ah, ah, Corina. No interrupting."

I shut my mouth and sulk at the ground.

Jupiter then softens up on the rain until it hung in a pearly translucent mist before he walks out of the fog in his human form. Pluto follows in suit: his flames become smouldering embers and he steps out of the chasm and stands in the mud beside me. Neptune rises out of a saltwater pool he forms. I hiss when the water comes into contact with my skin. The god of the ocean winces apologetically and quickly expels the offending saltwater.

Again, as I stare at the ground, I am easily distracted by the water changing into diamonds. The mist and diamonds capture the faint light of the fire and create tiny little rainbows all over the once-gloomy strawberry fields.

"You requested my presence so I could help you find my son," Pluto sighs wearily.

I nod my head slowly, eyes still lowered to the ground. I do not trust the slow, calculating timbre of his voice.

"You and Nico have created more trouble and grief than the time of Paris and Helen of Troy. You do realise that, don't you?" Neptune says.

"All I want is to be with him," I say back. "It's really not that complicated."

Jupiter looks at me. "Corina. You have a life to fulfil. The life you lead is perilous and unyielding. You have to understand that nothing can distract you from concluding your fate. Do you understand?"

Frowning, I look him straight in the eyes. "You've said the same ambiguous thing for four years, Jupiter. Could you perhaps elaborate on this destiny quest before I agree to it?"

I can tell that all three gods are rapidly getting irritated with me, my attitude, and my sarcastic remarks. I take a deep breath and try to will away my stubbornness. Then, I try addressing Jupiter again.

"I didn't mean it like that," I tell him in a calmer voice. "I just want to know what my fate has to do with the prophecy in place right now. The prophecy that you need Nico for it to be complete."

Pluto growls in warning. I turn to stare at him. "I'm sorry, is there something you want to say?"

Jupiter looks at me sharply. "Cori, you are to treat my brothers and me with utmost respect. If I hear you mouth off anymore to us today I will have to take away your powers indefinitely."

I glower at him. "Yes, sir," I say acidly. In my head, I am thinking that my father sucks at being a parent. Threats hardly work in anyone's favour unless the parent wishes to intimidate the child. And everybody knows that respect does not come from intimidation. At least I thought everyone knew that. Judging from Jupiter's raised eyebrow, I infer that he somehow has managed to hear my thoughts. I am starting to think that having a god for a father is not the best thing in the world.

Pluto eyes me disdainfully. "What my son sees in you, I will never know," he says haughtily. "You are too selfish and conceited for your own good, Corina."

I snort. "That's rich, coming from an arrogant, greedy bastard like you," I respond with a disapproving gaze at Pluto.

"Corina...," Jupiter arches an eyebrow at me in warning.

I scrunch up my nose and resist the childish urge to stick out my tongue at him. So what? I called Pluto a bastard. It's the complete truth. But I grumble and sigh and roll my eyes. I guess I have to work harder on this respect-the-gods thing.

"I hate apologising," I say curtly to Jupiter. "So don't you dare make me say it one more time."

Neptune laughs. "He wouldn't have to force you to do anything, Coral, if you would just be on your best behaviour."

I glance at the Sea God. "Ha. Might as well have tea with the Queen of England while I'm at it," I snark back.

Jupiter just shakes his head at me and picks a few pieces of invisible lint off of his pin-striped suit. "Your mum is a very remarkable woman for being able to handle you, Cori. I seem to be missing her ability to raise a child."

I can't help but answer back with: "Maybe you should have been around more often, Jupiter. Then you might have a better idea on how to be a father."

Silence from all three gods. I know that my words have struck a chord deep within each of them. They're all guilty about leaving their significant others to lead the single-parent lifestyle. All because of that really, really dumb rule Jupiter made up about having minimal contact. Sure, I see where he thinks it is a good idea because no one should mess with fate and destiny and favour a child over another and influence a life more than required and whatnot, but every single demigod in the world then grows up feeling partially unloved and abandoned. Consequently, the bond between god and demigod is not as strong as it should be.

"Pluto, why don't you just wrap up this up so we can return to our domains? It never is a good idea for us three to be in one place for so long," Neptune says to break the quiet. I get the feeling that I have outworn my welcome with the gods.

Pluto huffs and puffs. "If I must," he drawls out in an unpleasant tone, and his lip curls up into a sneer when he says this. "But I resent obeying orders of yours, Neptune."

"Brother, he only gave out a mere suggestion," Jupiter intervenes in a mild voice.

Pluto rounds on Jupiter next. "Yes, my Lord," he responds back scathingly.

I roll my eyes at how juvenile the most powerful of the gods are acting right now. One would think they were little boys bickering in a sandbox about who gets the coolest plastic toy truck or something like that. I lie back into the saltwater mud and ignore the three gods. I pay no attention to the faint burn of the saltwater as it gets into contact with my skin. I then hold my palm up and watch as the mist forms into raindrops that dance lightly across my hand. With my other hand, I lay it flat on the ground and catch the raindrops that turn into diamonds. When I get a golf-ball sized handful, I lift it up and watch as the light from the fire in the pit creates sparkling rainbows through the facets in the crystalline gemstone.

Neptune stops arguing for a minute to comment on the glittering, colourful mass in my hands. "If only sea foam could create beautiful rainbows like that," he remarks wistfully. He then glances at Pluto with raised eyebrows.

Pluto stops mid-rant at Jupiter and looks at the rainbows shimmering on the ground around me. "Oh, yeah," he mumbles. He reaches into an inside pocket of his black leather jacket and tosses a gold coin in my direction. I catch it reflexively and peer at it wonderingly.

"It's a gold drachma," Jupiter explains. "Surely you've seen it before what with your many interactions with the Greek demigods...?"

"Of course I have," I answer back absent-mindedly. "But this one is...different. It almost feels as if Nico has touched it before."

"Just throw it into one of those rainbows you've created," Pluto says gruffly.

I look at him strangely. "You want me to send an Iris-message? That's such a _Greek_ thing to do, though. In case you have forgotten, I am Roman."

Neptune shrugs. "Iris isn't picky about who she sends messages for. Just toss in the drachma and tell her that you would like to see Nico."

"Why would that work now? Percy and Chiron have tried that before and haven't been able to get into contact with Nico. And don't I need to say some sort of fancy thing to Iris? Like 'O Iris, goddess of the rainbow, I-don't-know-the-rest-because-I-am-Roman'?"

Jupiter looks at me sharply. "Corina, now is not the time for specifics."

All three gods are tense and acting dodgy and suspicious. However, I do understand that whatever is going on is serious and that I need to follow Jupiter's command. I bite my lip to stop myself from asking anymore questions and pitch the gold drachma into one of the misty rainbows.

"Er, Iris, I would like to see Nico...?" I say hesitantly. Talking to a rainbow really isn't my strongest point.

The drachma disappears, and immediately the mist is replaced with Nico's familiar face despite the fact he had aged three years since I last saw him. I look through the mist and see Nico sitting across from me, a grimace on his face before a faint smile on curves upon his lips once he catches sight of me. The Iris-message conjures up an image so real, I can practically feel his warmth envelope the air around me. I study his surroundings with a critical eye. Something in the background catches my eye, and my hands fly to my mouth as I inhale sharply. He can't be there. Oh gods, please don't tell me he has been locked up there for three years!

"Oh, Nico," I whimper and reach my hand out towards him. I am careful not to break the Iris-message, the only connection I have had with him in years. "I'm missing you so much, can't help it I'm love...a day without you is like a year without rain." I rove a critical eye over him. He doesn't look to be in the best health, but he is not looking emaciated either. Perhaps he is not as healthy as he should be, but there are no obvious wounds or broken bones that I can see from this Iris-message. I fervently hope to the gods that he is getting treated as well as possible under the circumstances. "Are you all right? You're not injured or anything, are you?"

He smiles sadly. "Don't worry about me, Santos," he says. There is a resigned look in his eyes. Has he given up on himself? "Please do not come looking for me. There's a reason why no one has been able to find me. I don't want you to end up like the others. I love you, Cori."

He then raises his hand and severs our communication before I can say anything else. I stare at where he had been mere seconds ago. He wants me to not go rescue him? As if. Now that I finally know of his location, I cannot just sit and wait idly. A plan to free him starts formulating in my mind.

"Corina," Pluto says warningly. "You heard the boy. Do not go looking for him."

I look up at the god. My mouth opens to shoot some fiery retort about how he doesn't care about his son, but then I catch sight of his facial expression. The words he had spoken contradict the look on his face.

Pluto allowed me to contact Nico because he wants me to know where Nico is so I could go rescue him. I have no idea what is up with all of this secrecy and hidden truths, but I just brush those thoughts aside for now and nod my head in acknowledgment to the Lord of the Underworld. I will find Nico and free him.

The three gods then depart: Jupiter in an impressive funnel of clouds, lightning, and wind; Pluto combusting into those scary flames in his pit that closes after the fire lowers itself underneath the ground; and Neptune leaves in a salty, fresh-scented ocean breeze.

After the gods leave, I close my eyes and recreate the image of Nico in my mind. The surroundings I had seen in the Iris-message make it easier for me to track down his exact location. I vow to myself that I will find him and save him no matter what. It doesn't matter to me that he is overseas in unknown territory. The fact that he will not be alone anymore and that I have the ability to save him gives me hope and overrides any other obstacle that could possibly prevent us from not getting back together. With the knowledge that he is so close to being back with me, I feel as if I am finally in my element.

Back in the atmosphere, so to speak.

* * *

**Author's Note: This is the one that got it all started for me, um, it's called _Ocean Eyes_ by Cockapoo_. (And yes, I pretty much just quoted Taylor Swift from her Soho concert in 2008. I'm such a Swiftie :)  
_PS: Please tell Cockapoo that I recommended her amazing fanfic. It's a beautifully written NicoXOC story, which by default makes it a wonderful story to read._  
_**

**This is going to be a long story. I have 45 chapters planned for _Drops of Jupiter _as of right now. If you have read any of my Twilight fictions, you know that I am a big fan of detail and rambling and dialogue and pretty much everything that doesn't make sense but (somehow) does at the same time.**

**I completed most of the story before I uploaded the first chapter, so I pretty much know where I'm going with the story (...for once). Lucky for you, that means I will be uploading a new chapter as soon as I can (fingers crossed!). Reviews would, you know, speed up the process :)  
**

**"Living is easy with eyes closed, misunderstanding all that you can see" is from the song _Strawberry Fields Forever_ sung by The Beatles.  
"I don't want to live that way, reading into every word you say" is from the song _Somebody that I Used to Know_ sung by Gotye feat. Kimbra.  
"I'm missing you so much, can't help it I'm in love, a day without you is like a year without rain" is from the song _A Year Without Rain_ sung by Selena Gomez.  
**

**Please leave me a review! I would really like to incorporate any input you have into this fanfic.**

**So let me know what you think. I think you should Speak Now.  
Fearlessly ~wouldtheywriteasongforyou**


	2. Drops of Jupiter

**Author's Note: Hi again! Thank you so _so_ much for continuing to read/reviewing/story alerting/story favouriting (do you catch my drift?) _Drops of Jupiter_. Like seriously. The positive response I got from you was mind-blowing. I honestly had to ramble for a couple of pages because ya'll are that amazing. I would post it, but, um, you probably have enough of my rambling to process with this two-hundred-twenty-five-thousand-inch-long author's note I am writing you. Total sarcasm/exaggeration/ramble mode going on right now. Sorry 'bout that.**

**Can you please tell Cockapoo how cool she is for creating her amazing story about Nico and Lily in _Ocean Eyes_? That story was what really got me to write _Drops of Jupiter_. Besides Rick Riordan's amazing Percy Jackson books, of course. So you have her to thank for the story you're reading right now. (I'm, um, guessing that you like my story enough to read until Chapter Two...?)**

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No copyright infringement is intended.**

* * *

**Train~ "With drops of Jupiter in her hair, hey..."  
**

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Chapter Two: Drops of Jupiter

**_The Santos Flat  
San Francisco, California  
Four Years Earlier_**

I have never known my dad. Or just 'Dad', I guess. I'm not sure if I can really say that he is actually mine.

And honestly, that doesn't bother me. It used to, but I have gotten over it since then. I used to ask my mum about him, but she always gets this glassy, far-away look that clouds her pretty gold-like-lightning coloured eyes. She never answers my question, and it seems as if some part of her dies every time I bring up the subject of my father.

In turn, I stop asking about him. I can never imagine caring or liking someone who has the sort of power to hurt my mum even when he isn't physically present. If Mum can pretend he does not exist, then so can I.

After all, that is what I've spent most of my fifteen years of life doing.

But ignoring the fact that I have no idea who my father is occasionally gets awkward. Especially on days like today that just so happens to be Father's Day.

Today is the only day in the whole 365 days of the year that I voluntarily let myself wonder about my dad. When I was younger I would spend hours wondering if he thought of me too at the same exact moment. Then I would delude myself into childish fantasies of whether or not we would be thinking the same things at the same time. It would confuse me and entertain me and all in all, it would in some sort of odd way make me feel a wee bit closer to my father.

Now that I am older, though, my wondering has a more cynical, bitter edge. It follows along the lines of whether or not he ever planned staying and marrying my mum. What if he was already married and my mum was just some secret love affair? But why would he do something as horrendous as that to my mum if he loved her as much as she claims he does?

Mum. An image of electric amber-gold eyes and midnight black hair comes to the forefront of my mind. She is sweet, like the night sky. Clear and easily readable. Pretty, wise, always thinking about others, and open to the whole world. And I know she loved — and probably still loves — my father with all of her heart.

Not that he seems to care.

"Corina?" Mum asks from down the hall. It sounds as if she is in the kitchen, her safe haven — it's a Brazilian and Greek/Mediterranean thing from her side of the family — but then why would there be that note of concern in her voice? "Corina, _bebê_, I need you to come down to the kitchen immediately."

Her voice is soft yet urgent. She's speaking English with her British accent, but normally she and I converse in Portuguese, our native Latin-American language.

Nothing is adding up but somehow I know that whatever awaits me down in that kitchen will explain all my answers.

I leave my bedroom and hesitantly make my way through the hallway. I wish Mum would prepare me for what is going on in the kitchen. She knows how much I hate surprises, and this situation is sounding a little too serious to be a jokey type of surprise.

"Corina, _amor_, we haven't got all day," Mum says with a touch of impatience.

I blink in surprise and my descent down the hallway falters. _We_?

I approach the kitchen doorway with more caution than these circumstances probably call for. I am starting to dread as to what I will find in the_ cozinha_.

"Hello, Corina," a man in a grey pin-striped suit greets me. He is sitting at the head of the kitchen table, a place Mum and I usually cover with stuff so we are not reminded of the missing man of the household.

"Don't sit there," I say sharply to the stranger, my British accent making me sound formal and cold. I don't know who he is or what he is doing here in the flat, but I do not like him already. "And don't call me Corina." My voice is icier than the falling hail that I used to watch during the winters we lived in Manhattan over six years ago.

Mum glares at me and immediately begins to reprimand by 'inexcusable' behaviour. "Corina Ivy Santos! Apologise. _Now_."

I scowl and mutter some sort of apology to the stranger.

He chuckles loudly and a broad smile inhabits his face. "She has your spirit, Cassia."

"Yes, well, if only she inherited some of my manners, too," Mum replies tersely.

The man turns his stormy blue-grey gaze upon me again. "Tell me, child, why you do not like being called Corina."

I press my lips together firmly and stare at him hostilely. He can laugh and joke all he wants to with my mum but nothing he does will change the initial first impression I have of him. He finally seems to understand that I will not be answering his question.

"I knew great things were in store for you, and I was so proud that you were a girl. And it is a pretty name, Corina, my maiden," he tells me, obviously trying to break the uncomfortable, awkward silence between us.

I don't really know why, but all of the sudden I lose it. It could be due to the fact that he has this weird prophetic creepy persona to him. Also, why on Earth would he be proud of me? I've never met him and I bear no relation to him. "I'm not your anything!" I scream at him. "I don't even know who you are!" Outside, the San Franciscan sky turns a ghastly colour of obsidian black and thunder is rumbling in the distance.

The stranger turns to glance out the window, his back momentarily towards me. I can't see his face from my position in the kitchen doorway. When he turns back around to look at me, though, his eyes are not frightened. Contrarily, he seems to be excited and thrilled.

"Corina, _por favor_," Mum pleads. "Please, _amor_, don't do that." Her eyes flicker worriedly at the stranger before she looks back at me with an upset expression on her face.

"Cassia, it is all right," he smiles soothingly. "I am pleased to know that Corina has inherited my weather-controlling abilities."

My jaw drops open. "Inherit?" I glare accusingly at this stranger. "You mean to tell me that you are my father?"

The stranger-who-does-not-deserve-to-be-labelled-as-my-dad nods sheepishly.

"So I have you to blame for my miserable life?" I shout. "At school I'm known as the weird-dyslexic-ADD-Brazilian-freak that talks with a British accent and doesn't even have a father! And _now_ you just decided to stroll into my life and claim whatever you want? And then what? Are you going to go disappear for another fifteen years?"

He looks flustered at my random emotional outburst. No words come out of his mouth.

"Oh," I say unemotionally, becoming cool and unfeeling towards him again once all of the puzzle pieces click back together in my mind. "That _is_ what you were planning to do."

"Corina," he tells me in a voice that he thinks will soften my heart. "I am very sorry that I have brought this fate upon you. I need you to forgive me, though, if you are to live up to the life you are going to lead."

I stare at him, astounded at the audacity he has to believe that I will do anything he says after what has transpired between us. He seems to exude some sort of power, and he is so official and ancient-sounding which completely contradicts that modern-ish grey pin-striped suit he is wearing. Never in my wildest fantasies did I imagine my father to look and act like this uptight, self-centred person.

"Don't call me Corina," I tell him again. I purposefully ignore the main idea of his past few sentences.

"Why not?" he asks, seemingly confused. "It is a beautiful name. I even picked it out for you."

"Just another reason why I don't like it," I mutter.

Mum is still glaring at me. "Corina. You need to apologise to your _pai._"

"What for?" I whine, sounding like a petulant child. "Why doesn't _he_ have to apologise about leaving us for the past fifteen years?" Lightning races down from the sky, causing the world to be illuminated with a single flash before fading back into the darkness of the storm I created.

He looks over at me. There might be a flicker of remorse and sorrow in his eyes but I refuse to acknowledge it.

"Don't call me Corina," I repeat, still annoyed, but my tone is softer. "I go by Cori."

So maybe I do feel bad. He _did_ go out of his way to find us after all. And I hate it when Mum is upset with me. My negative feeling stems more from the latter reason than the former.

He nods. "Cori," he says. "I am so very sorry. But I have rules I must obey. Rules that I made and must honour if I want the respect of those who follow me. One of those rules states that I must have minimal contact with my children."

"That's a dumb rule," I tell him pointedly. I try to figure out who in their right mind would want to 'follow' this guy who seems to have serious commitment issues. And I purposefully ignore the end of that sentence which hints that I might not be his only child. I would prefer to live in a delusional reality where this is my father and no one else's.

My father bows his head contritely. "Yes, I am finding that out right now."

I am momentarily confused before I remember that we are in the middle of a conversation and that he is answering my spoken words instead of my thoughts.

He looks up at me with a ghost of a smile upturning the corners of his mouth. "I wish I had more of a hand in your childhood," he says in a low voice, almost as if he is talking to himself. In a louder voice he says, "Tell me, have you learned any mythology in school?"

I shrug, not understanding what this has to do with anything. "Not much and nothing that I can remember. Just a couple of days on Greek mythology, and a couple of sentences on Roman mythology. I wish they would focus on the Roman aspect more than the Greek part. I am more curious about learning what ancient Rome was like rather than spending forever learning about Zeus' many affairs."

He smiles. "I do not blame you," he says with a conspiratorial wink as if I understand this inside joke he is trying to share with me.

We all settle into silence again, but this time it is slightly more relaxed. I am looking at this man who is trying to fill that rather giant gap in my life that my father should occupy. I don't know when or why he left, and I'm not really sure if I want to find out the entire truth.

Over by the kitchen sink, Mum turns her head, looking out the window. I see the diamond sparkle of a tear splash down her face. Immediately the storm outside calms down to a foggy mist, and everything is bathed in the glittering tears of the sky.

"Mummy, don't cry," I plea as I quickly move away from the doorway and into the kitchen so I can give her a hug. My conversation with my father is forgotten as I try to comfort my mum. "Mummy, what's wrong?"

"Cassia?" my father says and rises from the table hesitantly.

Mum sniffs and gently pats my arms that are encircling her waist. "Jupiter, why are you here?" she says, the bleak hurt in her voice stabbing my heart with each word. "Please don't take my daughter away from me. I already have enough pain with you gone."

I am confused. What type of name is Jupiter? My father doesn't look like the astronomer type. And what's all this talk about me leaving? "I'm not going anywhere, Mum," I tell her. I look over at my father. "Right?"

He seems to be avoiding my gaze. An unwelcomed feeling of unease settles in the pit of my stomach.

I point an accusing finger over at him. "You cannot take me away from my _mãe,_" I command. "You don't even have any legal rights over me!"

He lets out a humourless chuckle. "By your standards, I guess so," he says. "No, Cori, I am not forcing you away from your mother. I am just...proposing that you go to a summer camp for people like you."

At first, I don't see what all this drama is about if the whole ordeal is about whether I attend this summer camp or not. But something isn't sitting right with me. I clutch tighter to Mum.

"People like me?" He makes it sound as if I am some sort of circus freak. "I know English isn't my native language and that it is hard for me to read. I know I have some sort of unnatural weather-controlling ability. I know I probably have ADD or ADHD and that I am majorly dyslexic. I know that I am temperamental and ambitious. But I am completely positive that there is no one else in the world like me. _There is no camp that could be filled with 'people like me'_."

"There is and there are," he states simply. "You are not alone on this, Cori. You are not weird or a freak or anything abnormal. In these people's eyes, _you are normal_."

I bite my lip. Is there really such a place where I fit in for once? I desperately want it to be true. But why should I trust this stranger who claims that he is my father? I only met him today.

"How many days will I have to go to this camp?" I ask cautiously.

He looks startled and a little bit pleased that I am taking an interest into the camp. Obviously he expected more resistance from me. "There is no definite set time. All I can tell you is that you need to go to the Wolf House. It is a burned-out mansion in the middle of the Sonoma redwood forest in Northern California. You should know exactly where it is. Cori, it is your decision whether or not you want to go to the summer camp, but I strongly advise that you go if you want a chance at surviving what fate has in store for you."

I look around the kitchen, waiting for the lights to start flickering or something scary and cliché to happen after all this spooky talk of destiny and fate and whatnot. My thoughts are so preoccupied that I am taken unaware when he starts towards me and Mum and embraces us in a big family hug. "I love you both," he whispers into our ears. "Never forget that."

Then he stiffens and pulls away from us. "I have to leave now," he says. I swear that I heard a twinge of regret in his voice. "I have broken too many rules. My people are not pleased with me." He sighs and looks me straight in the eyes. "Please make the right decision, Cori."

"Will I ever see you again?" I ask. I hate how final and ominous this whole meeting was, and I want to end it on a good note. However, I have this feeling that tells me my life will never have the happy fairy-tale ending that little girls dream of.

My father looks like he wants to nod his head, but something is preventing him from doing so. "I really hope so."

"Happy Father's Day," I tell him softly.

I catch the corners of his mouth upturning slightly before I blink.

He is already nothing more but a memory by the time I open my eyes again.

.

.

.

.

Should I have come?

That is the million dollar question that keeps racing through my mind. I am out in the woods near the burnt-down mansion that my father had mentioned four days ago. Something about this place makes me edgy, yet I also feel safe and well-protected here.

A low predatory snarl off to my right catches my attention.

Goosebumps prickle up all over my skin. The safe feeling vanishes, and terror washes over me like a storm cloud rolling in. I have never been so afraid for my life.

The shadows of the trees give way to a roguish band of grey wolves encircling me. I am frozen with fear. They approach closer and impatiently nudge me towards the direction of the ruins.

My feet move through the damp leave-and-dirt-covered forest floor, blatantly disobeying the protests my brain voices. The wolves keep up their low warning growls, telling me that defying their orders would result in unpleasant consequences. Eventually my brain shuts up.

The wolves take me past the stone skeleton of the once-beautiful mansion. They lead me under a crumbling doorway and into a courtyard of some sort.

In front of me lies a drained reflecting pool, long and rectangular. The bottom is covered in mist, preventing me from seeing all the way to its depths. A dirt path circles around the pool. The uneven house walls rise up on either side of it. The wolves that guided me to this place knead the ground uncertainly underneath archways of red stone.

At the far end of the pool sits a giant she-wolf with a pelt the same colour as the brown-and-red stone. Her silver eyes stare at me intently, measuring me up. I feel as if I am taking a test – a test that I am sure to fail.

All of the sudden, she moves her whiskers and ears, flashes her eyes, curls her lip, and lets out a series of growls and yips. I can't understand her exactly, but the meaning behind her wolf-language is clear enough.

_A daughter of Jupiter, hmm?_ she says and a wolfish grin spreads across her muzzle. _A little too old to be here. You can count fifteen summers, am I right?_

I nod my head, not trusting myself to speak aloud in fear that I might let out an embarrassing scream of fright.

_I am Lupa_, the wolf tells me. _I am the Mother Wolf, the greatest of my kind. This here is my wolf pack. You will become one of us. I have chosen you, child, to prepare you for your next journey. I will protect you, nurture you, treat you as one of us, but if you show any weakness, I will spare you no mercy. Weakness is not an option in a wolf pack. Our way is to conquer or die._

I nod, feeling as if this was my only option no matter what.

Lupa gets up off of her haunches and starts to pad towards me. When she reaches me, she rests her giant muzzle against my shoulder and says, _You shall be known as Lightning. Do not disappoint me._

She removes her touch away from me and addresses the congregation of wolves. _This is our new pup, Lightning. You have one moon to teach her the ways of the wolves. At the end of that lunar cycle we will meet up again and decide whether she is fit for the next stage of her journey or if she is our next dinner. Teach her well, fellow wolves._

I shiver at Lupa's words, but once I start receiving hungry looks from the other wolves, I try to quell my fear. Apparently a lesson I need to learn here is to be strong and carry on no matter the circumstances.

Lupa leaves the courtyard. The wolves bow down respectfully as she passes. Once she is out of sight, they all turn and face me. Fear threatens to overwhelm me once more. I cannot believe that my father has lead me here and thrown me to the wolves.

_You remind me of a pup we had a long time ago_, one wolf says thoughtfully. _He was the son of Jupiter. Eager to please and willing to learn. He turned out just fine. I can anticipate that you will end up the same way, Lightning._

Another wolf, one with matted grey fur and battle scars criss-crossing all over his body, leers at me. _I hope you fail, little one. I look forward to eating you for dinner._

I shudder. Becoming a wolf meal is not something I particularly want to be.

One last wolf, with shining silver fur and bright eyes, appraises me. _Lightning. From here until the end of this moon cycle, you are our pup. You will obey and learn. Forget your human inhibitions — for all intents and purposes, you are one of us. A wolf. Act upon your instincts, learn the rules of strength and power, and never _ever_ show weakness._

_Embrace your destiny, child of Jupiter._

.

.

**~ One Full Moon Later ~**

_Back in courtyard. Lupa. Greet. Nose twitch. Squirrel! Big moon in sky. Seems important. Lupa. Growl. Approving. Must...not...show...happiness. Happiness is sign of weakness. Be strong. Be emotionless. Howl. Lupa. Touch shoulder. Tingle..._

...like lightning before a storm. I blink. All the wolf instincts are shoved to the back of my mind. Everything I have learned for the past month is not forgotten, but it is no longer what dominates my thoughts.

I am Cori, again. Human.

I get this urge to grin like a mentally-impaired person, but I suppress the random feeling down. If I have learned anything in the company of the wolves, it is to let logic and common sense rule decisions instead of emotions and feelings.

Apparently I do not qualify as a wolf's snack. I am so glad. I have had enough first-hand experience in witnessing how savage of a beast a wolf is concerning their food.

Lupa narrows her eyes at me. _Your mission is not over, Lightning. Contrarily, it has just begun_. _You began your journey here as a pup. Now you must find your way to Camp Jupiter, the Roman camp for demigods like you. But hurry — monsters can smell you, and if you linger too long, you will attract more trouble than you need._

_Do not fail, daughter of Jupiter. Your Fate depends on the choices you choose to make today._

Lupa gives me a curt nod before flicking her tail at what used to be my wolf pack companions. All of them let out a sad, wailing howl in parting before they fade back into the trees, leaving me standing alone in an empty courtyard of a burned-down mansion.

Déjà vu, much?

"Right," I mutter. My vocal chords are scratchy from disuse for about a month, and they are pitched a couple notes lower than my normal speaking voice. I clear my throat, trying to ignore the pain in my larynx. "To Camp Jupiter." Idly, I wonder if my father was the founder of Camp Jupiter. It would explain why he all but forced me to go to the camp.

"Um," I say uncertainly. "How come nobody has given me a GPS to go find this camp?"

The woods give no answer. I half-expect them to, but then again, if they did I would have been majorly creeped out.

I take advantage of the silence of the woods so I can organise my thoughts. My father mentioned the camp many times, so obviously getting there would be my number one priority. But I was still puzzling over the whole encounter with the wolves. Was it truly necessary to spend a whole month with those pretty scary carnivores just so I could learn the lesson of obedience, logic, and reasoning? And Lupa had mentioned some new bits of information in her parting speech:

Demigod. What exactly did that mean?

Lupa had said, "_Now you must find your way to Camp Jupiter, the Roman camp for demigods like you. But hurry — monsters can smell you and if you linger too long, you will attract more trouble than you need._

_Do not fail, daughter of Jupiter. Your Fate depends on the choices you choose to make today._"

So, yeah. Whatever that whole spiel meant. Because nobody decides to tell me anything, I am forced to go on this fate-fulfilling-soul-searching-parent-pleasing-quest-thingy to find this so-called Camp Jupiter without knowing exactly why I am doing it and why I am being called a 'demigod'. And those monsters that Lupa had mentioned...well, those sound...inevitable.

All of the sudden, the forest seems darker and colder. The shadows appear to be moving and reshaping themselves. I swear that I just saw the shadow of a person off to my left. And then...were those eyeballs blinking at me through the gloom?

I try to use my weather-changing abilities to bring the sun out so I can see the way out of this maze of trees and dirt, but for once the sky refuses to comply. If anything, it does the opposite of what I want and the world turns a sinister shade of dusky grey-and-black.

The person-shadow is pausing and I can no longer tell if it is actually there or if it has merged with the obscurity of the forest by now.

"Hello?" I call out. I receive no answer, of course. Just to make sure that nobody is there, I say again: "Hey, is anybody there?"

A growl meets my words.

I guess I am not as alone as I thought I was.

Spinning towards the noise, I realise that this must be one of the monsters Lupa had warned me about. One whiff of its foul odour and a glance at its dank, musty pelt makes me wish that I had listened more carefully to the knowledgeable wolf.

The monster comes sliding out of the shadows, not far from where I thought I had seen the shadow of a person. Slimy teeth are bared, and some drool drips down out of one corner of the monster's mouth. Talk about horrible dental hygiene.

The beast is formidable and easily three times as tall as I am. Nasty looking teeth aside, the monster is not a pretty sight. I am not exactly sure what it is supposed to be, but it kinda looks like a kindergartner's scribble drawing of a cartoon character from _Monster's Inc._ Except now it is three-dimensional and looking like it wants its next meal to be me.

Hisses and growls spew out of its mouth and some spit that is probably acidic flies out and hits the ground in front of me. Wishful thinking has me imagining that this is some sort of science-fiction alien trying to capture me and take me back to its home planet.

"Don't be daft," I mutter to myself under my breath. I cannot believe that I just had those thoughts about it being some sort of alien.

The monster focuses its beady eyes on me. It snorts, and a billow of foul-smelling air wafts in my direction. More spit splashes on the ground around me, soaking the bark on some unfortunate tree trunks.

"Okay," I say hesitantly. That display of monster talent has made me a wee bit nervous. "So you have creepy spit-aiming powers. Er, that's not going to be a problem. I can deal with that."

A low, ghostly laugh greets my words. If that monster hadn't petrified me so much, I would have turned towards the noise.

"Who's there?" I call out, never moving my eyes away from the advancing alien monster thing.

"It's only me," the voice replies quietly but with enough authority to sound frightening and menacing.

And cue the adrenaline-pumping music. If only this was a horror movie! Then I would know that I had a hundred percent guarantee on surviving. However, since my reality became this scary movie scene, I am not so sure about anything anymore.

"Yeah, well, whoever you are, this isn't a good time right now. Come again later, please," I tell the person and push my tangled long dark hair out of my face so I can concentrate on the bigger animal/monster threat.

"I think this is a perfectly good time to ask you why is a pretty little girl like you doing out alone in the woods?" the stranger replies. I still can't see their face since they won't step out of the shadowy trees.

The monster thing is creeping closer towards me. The gap between us has lessened considerably. Its overwhelming odour of rotten breath and dirty fur is strong enough to make my eyes water. I keep trying to back away, but I can tell that it is useless. The monster is just too big and powerful and could easily pounce on me any moment that it wishes.

"Maybe I wanted to re-enact Little Red Riding Hood!" I snap back at the person. "And no, this is _not_ a good time to talk because if you haven't noticed, there is this terrifying monster thing that looks like it wants to eat me!"

Another chuckle from the stranger. "Oh, Mrs O'Leary?" They snap their fingers and all of the sudden, the monster stops advancing towards me and sits back on its furry haunches, pink tongue lolling out. "She's only a harmless hellhound. I promise she won't bother you."

I eye this Mrs O'Leary doubtfully. "Hellhound, you say?"

The monster barks in agreement and thumps its tail on the forest floor. A few trees nearby fall down and a mini storm of leaves plummet to the ground.

"Creature from the Underworld," the stranger says with something like pride colouring their tone. "Probably only the nicest and safest one you'll ever meet in your lifetime."

Now that the threat of me dying isn't looming over my conscience, my brain is starting to notice random little details. I'm starting to notice things like this stranger is still hidden in the shadows and that they have a deep masculine voice and talk with a natural British accent.

"Pardon me for asking," I say in a voice that conveys I am not at all sorry. "But why did you set your hellhound upon me?"

The person is obviously embarrassed, given the way their speech is a bit more halting and hesitant than it was a few moments ago. "Er...," they say, stalling. All of a sudden, his voice brightens and answers me cockily: "Perhaps I wanted to help you with your re-enactment of Little Red Riding Hood. But I must ask you, how can you be Little Red Riding Hood if you have neither a basket full of things for your grandmother or a red cloak?"

I ignore the stranger. If they did not want to take my question seriously, I thought it to be fair to refuse to answer their own question. On a completely different note, this darkness shrouding me is starting to get on my nerves. I try to lighten up the sky, but nothing happens.

"What are you doing?" he asks me curiously.

Figuring the person wouldn't think of me strangely given our circumstances — after all, when you have a hellhound as a companion, somehow mental details no longer seem weird — I tell them: "I'm just trying to brighten up the sky. Doesn't this dark atmosphere bother you?"

"No," he says. "I think the darkness is rather nice. But you can change the sky?"

I walk across the forest floor before slumping onto the ground so I could sit and lean against the nice sturdy redwood tree. The day's exhaustion from leaving the company of the wolves to meeting a hellhound has finally caught up with my once-adrenaline-filled body and mind. "Yes."

"Does it come...naturally to you?"

I shrug lazily, deciding to play difficult. "Define natural."

Their voice is even quieter than before, but somehow it seems louder to me. Maybe I'm close to where they are hiding. The thought doesn't frighten me — if worse comes to worse, I know I can fry the stranger with a single lightning bolt.

"You aren't in close acquaintance with being natural?"

I shake my head ruefully. "I'm kind of an outcast. 'Natural' and 'me' aren't really synonymous together. I kinda-sorta don't belong with other people. Everyone thinks I'm some sort of freak and make fun of me."

"If you think about it, everyone is an outcast in the world," the stranger tells me. "Everybody's warped perceptions of 'normal' and 'socially acceptable' limit the number of people who can be considered respectable and ideal." He pauses, as if he is thinking to himself or mulling over his own words. "I think natural is when you are comfortable being yourself. It's when you are who you are and you are the ideal person within your own rules of being normal."

I smile weakly. "Then I am a natural," I tell him.

It gets quiet for a couple of minutes. It's been awhile since he has spoken — has he left? The darkness is still weighing down the air, though, so I still can't see anything, really.

"What are you doing out here?" his voice says as it breaks the silence.

Somehow, I get the sense that he wants a straightforward answer this time. But I still am kind of leery about trusting him, so I try to dodge his question. "I'm sitting against a tree talking to a stranger," I reply honestly.

Mrs O'Leary lets out a loud, hostile growl. I stand up in fright, my defences flying back into place. I don't know how, but I had kind of forgotten her presence despite the fact that she was lying in front of my face the entire time.

"If you sic your hellhound on me again, I swear to the gods that I will strike you with lightning," I threaten, my voice strong and confident. I made sure to project a brave front despite my internal fear about being eaten alive by this monster.

Instantaneously, Mrs O'Leary backs off and goes back to her tail-wagging and cheerful barking persona. I heave a sigh of relief.

"Are you mortal?" the stranger questions me randomly.

I blink confusedly. "As opposed to what? Being a demigod?"

He answers me slowly and carefully. "And what made you jump to that conclusion?"

I sit back down and collapse tiredly against my tree. My eyes flutter closed as I rant at the stranger. "Look. I've had a really rough day, and I would appreciate it very much if you would stop talking in circles and just get to the point already. Stop throwing terms and things in my face. Like how the hail am I supposed to know what a hellhound and the Underworld and a demigod is? If you are some minion of my father trying to convince me to go to your stupid Camp Jupiter for freaks like me, you aren't doing a good job so far."

Silence greets my words. I open my eyes and see that the air is crystal clear and I can distinguish where everything is again. Straight in front of me: trees. Behind me: trees. Everywhere I look: trees. Yup, my vision is in perfect condition.

"Er, hey you, the stranger with the hellhound. Are you still here?" I ask even though it is quite obvious that no, the strange guy in the forest is no longer around.

The bright sun is dancing through the tree leaves, momentarily blinding from time to time. Still unaccustomed to the light, I summon a few clouds to dim the glare of the sun. Immediately, I am enveloped in the welcoming shade of my cloud friends.

Hidden in the cool shadows of the cloud, I notice some sort of unnatural thing lying in the dirt. Upon closer examination, I realise that it is a dagger of some sort. It has a wicked sharp edge and is as black as midnight. I am afraid to touch the lethal-looking blade. Judging from the murkiness and heavy feeling in the air surrounding the dagger, I surmise that it is a present left from the guy in the shadows.

Do I trust him enough to accept the gift he left me?

I cautiously reach out a hand and grab the handle of the dagger. It is cold and lightweight. The gloominess surrounding the weapon begins to dissipate once I touch the knife. The blade of the weapon glints at me menacingly. I would hate to be on the receiving edge of it. Just to see how sharp it is, I gently run the tip of my index finger along the blade and am careful not to nick myself.

My reaction is almost instantaneous. I nearly drop the dagger. As soon as I had touched it, I felt my vision go dark and it felt as if my life energy was fading. I draw my hand away from the blade immediately and stare at the weapon in wonder.

Well. It now seems to be that I am in possession of some highly dangerous weapon that I have no idea how to use if it were even a _normal_ functioning dagger. Hopefully if I ever had to use the knife, I would somehow by some pure amount of luck manage to defend myself and not stick the dagger into me by accident.

I fashion some sort of makeshift sheath out of nearby twigs and leaves for my newly acquired weapon and stow the dagger inside of the sheath that is now attached to the belt loop of my faded and slightly ripped favourite pair of jeans. Now that I am comfortably situated, I take another look at my surroundings.

Nothing seems to have changed within the past couple of hours. I am still completely and utterly lost — not to mention thoroughly stuck — in this abyss and maze of tree upon tree that make up this dreadfully large forest. I sigh and bite my lip contemplatively as I weigh my options inside of my mind. Logic dictates that this forest has to end at some point. Common sense tells me to use the sun as my compass and guideline to getting out of the forest. Stupid and sheer irrationality advises me to go chase after the stranger and demand for directions.

Out of all three, common sense wins.

"Okay," I tell myself. "Jupiter said I should instinctively know where the Wolf House was, so maybe I should somehow know where this Camp Jupiter is."

I continue to gnaw on my lower lip as I try to figure out my plan of action. The sun weaves itself in and out of the branches and leaves overhead. It is a wee bit hard to distinguish which side of the forest is north when the sun looks evenly distributed over the entire place.

I sigh resignedly. It seems that the only way to get my bearings is to climb to the top of one of these hundred-year-old redwood trees so I can get a good look at the sky without any leaves or branches shading the sunlight. I know this is not the best way considering my lack of balance and tendency to trip over air, but this is the only okay-sounding plan that I have been able to come up with.

I take a deep breath and start towards the nearest tree. Eyeing it calculatingly, I quickly dismiss the tree once I see how there are no knots in the bark for me to climb up on, nor is there any low-hanging branches. I move on to the next tree and rap my knuckles lightly on the bark. A sort of hollow sound rings through the forest, and a swift look allows me to see brown leaves on spindly branches when it should look vibrant and a healthy-looking green. I refuse to get discouraged, though. Third time should be the charm. I choose another tree. It looks strong and sturdy, and there are giant knots in the bark scattered up as far as my eyes can see. There are plenty branches scattered rather evenly throughout the tree, and the closest one is easily accessible if I stand on tiptoe.

Hoisting myself up is easy — my mother encouraged me to climb trees when I was younger. I easily navigate up the tree trunk and swing myself up onto the first branch. The rest flies by. Before I know it, I have managed to scale up the entire length of this tree. I balance myself carefully up in the treetop and see that the forest ends a few kilometres away from where I am. Sounds of cars and a busy highway reach my ears. It sounds like familiar California traffic. However, I now have a new problem. I know that if I go back down the tree, my whole sense of direction will be lost and I will end up stumbling through the forest aimlessly again. But somehow I know that I need to get to that highway. The question is, how?

My branch gently sways as the wind gently caresses over the tops of all the trees in the forest. I close my eyes and let myself rock side to side in time with the wind. I must have mimicked the tree really well because when I open my eyes, there is a small little reddish-brown squirrel sitting on my same branch and blinking inquisitively at me.

I hold my breath and watch the fluffy creature curiously. Once the wind stops, it turns away and jumps while extending its arms. My eyes widen once I realise that the squirrel is a flying hang-glider squirrel. Leaves rustle on the other side as the squirrel lands and scampers away.

I think for a moment. Is that the solution to my problem? I am a bit heavier than that squirrel, and no human has ever been able to fly before without additional props such as an airplane or a parachute. My bones are not porous and light-weight like a typical animal that is built for aviation, and I lack the flap of skin that allows the squirrel to fly. No. I don't think I am supposed to literally fly like that squirrel, but perhaps I can modify the technique so I can jump from treetop to treetop.

"Okay," I murmur to myself. "It's too late for second-guessing. Now is the time to trust my instincts, close my eyes, and leap." I steady my nerves and prepare myself to fly.

I imagine myself as light as a feather floating in the breeze. Before I close my eyes, I judge the distance between the trees and then I jump.

The wind whistles past me, but I keep calm and carry on. After a few moments of feeling like I am just floating in air, I open my eyes. And then I nearly scream because that is exactly what I am doing. It seems to be that I misjudged my leap and now I am suspended between the two treetops. I move my arms hesitantly around me and find out that I can sense the air pressure and the shifts in the wind even though I can't see it. To me, I look as if I am just hovering in mid-air. No, I take that back. I am hovering _on_ air.

There is a deep pull in my gut. I have no idea as to what I am doing, but I just follow my intuition and use the sun as my compass for getting out of this maze-like forest.

Time is an elusive concept that has no meaning to me as I propel myself on my air-cloud from tree to tree. Eventually, the trees start thinning out, and the light brightens up the world considerably. I could have been air-travelling for minutes or an hour — who really knows? All that matters to me is that I am getting close to finding my way out of this labyrinth of a forest.

I speed up a lot as I head towards the bright light that marks the end of the woods and forest. In a terribly cliché moment, I burst forward out of the darkened trees and into the blinding light of un-shadowed land. I screw up my eyes and squint as I try to get my bearings. Once my eyes focus, I am so startled by what I see that I lose all of my concentration that is controlling the air supporting me, and I go falling to the ground in a graceless heap.

I stare up at the place in shock. That sun hasn't misled me: in fact, it has taken me exactly to the place where I need to be. It guided me straight to Camp Jupiter's boundaries.

And now those two people by the tunnel have their bows and arrows pointed at me. Apparently I am the enemy.

Cautiously, I withdraw my new dagger and prepare for a fight.

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**Author's Note: WOW. That was a long chapter. The next one is even longer. And yes, there is a reason to all this madness of flash-backing away from that really good cliff-hanger in the first chapter (:  
**

**Cori is celebrating the UK Father's Day holiday (which is generally around early June) and not the American Father's Day holiday (which is typically celebrated in early July) even though she is living in California. Please do not get confused as it would mess up the whole entire time-frame of this story.  
**

**"Too late for second-guessing...time to trust my instincts, close my eyes, and leap" is from the song _Defying Gravity_ in the play Wicked.  
**

**Feel free to PM me whenever you just want to have a nice good, long, senseless ramble. I hear it is good for the mind. Or PM me if you have any questions about the plot. I promise I'll put on my serious face and answer you very seriously (just ask a serious question first, please).**

**Or even better, REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW!  
**


	3. Acts like Summer, Walks like Rain

**Author's Note: Hi, again. Me, again. Yay, again. I just like talking too much, and I kind of like these little random author's notes I manage to stick in. But I promise I'll go on a word limit diet. Sorry if I am distracting you from the story with this rambling nonsensical message.  
**

**And for all you people wondering: no, _Drops of Jupiter_ is not going to be some fluff-filled fiction. This is actually a long story (didn't I already warn you in Chapter One? And Two? And now again in Chapter Three?) with lots of details that you might find boring or interesting. I am not writing a story only centred on Cori and Nico. Yes, they are the main love focus, but there are other characters to develop, and I plan on having a plot line with some substance. There is actual meat and deliciousness to this story.  
**

**Gah. This word diet thing isn't working. Oh well. See ya at the bottom, anyways. Peace out, girl scout. And boy scouts, too. Ya'll are cool. And I love your cookies and popcorn. Yum. Wow, I sound lame just blathering on about food and random topics. LOLOL, whatevah.**

******Disclaimer: Anything you are confused about in this story, I take full credit for it. Everything you have already known because you have read any book written by Mr Rick Riordan is not mine. Long story short: crazy and confusing details are mine, smarticle and details from the books are not mine.**

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******Train~ "She acts like summer and walks like rain..."  
**

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Chapter Three: Acts Like Summer, Walks like Rain

**_Caldecott Tunnel  
Camp Jupiter — Camp Entrance  
Saturday July 20  
11.19 AM_**

I approach the two people stationed at the tunnel with quiet confidence. All of us know that I am in their mercy._ It's better to go out with a big bang rather than like a terrified hot mess_, I think to myself.

I quickly make my way across the highway — living in California for six years has done nothing to help me know where I am right now — and ignore the beeps of cars and trucks as they yell profanities and flip me the finger. What, have they never seen a teenager cross a busy highway before? _People these days_, I think with a roll of my eyes.

The two guards at the door exchange a glance with each other. One of them says something urgently and notches an arrow into their bow. I freeze, feeling stupid that I never considered that they would have weapons too and that they would inevitably be better wielding and fighting with said weapons.

A blaring horn practically shatters my eardrum as some blonde and sparkly-looking pale-skinned driver of a shiny red BMW curses me out for standing still in the middle of the highway. I jump five metres into the air and glare back at the person. I desperately want to give them shit back for that unnecessary horn beep but they have already driven that glossy expensive car of theirs away.

The hot Californian sun is already high in the sky by now, and standing outside sweating my butt off is not really helping me any. It does help me get my thoughts straight, though. I have been gone from home for over a month to find this camp. I have survived a pack of wolves — granted, they were nice and all but I still knew a couple of them would not have minded eating me as their meal. Am I really about to let two highly-trained guards and a highway stop me from entering Camp Jupiter?

Another horn startles me out of my musings. My nerves, frazzled from my month of fending for myself and from my fear and anxiousness about entering Camp Jupiter, snap. Hands on hips, I whirl around and face the oncoming traffic, a defiant gleam in my eyes.

"What. The. Hell!" I scream at the cars. "Mind your own business! Gods, have you never seen a person cross the street before? It really doesn't call for all of this horn-beeping, mouth-swearing, or middle-finger-raising!" Then I turn and stomp angrily across the rest of the highway.

"Did you see that?" one of the guards says to the other, not realising that I am in earshot. "She literally stops traffic! Gods, if I had her pretty hair instead of my crazy curls! And that must have taken a lot of guts to pull off that little stunt. Stopping in the middle of the Berkeley Freeway..." The guard shakes their head in disbelief. I am close enough to see that this guard is female with dark skin and has curly hair sticking out of the sides of her helmet. "Do you think she's a demigod?" she asks.

"Hazel," the other guard says in a more masculine voice. "Don't be crazy." Then, they realise that I am near them and they cease talking.

I stare at the two of them cautiously. "Er...hullo," I say, my British accent thicker in my nervousness. "I'm, er, looking for Camp Jupiter."

Hazel, the girl, smiles at her companion. I can practically hear her say _See! I told you so!_ even though nothing has come out of her mouth since my arrival.

The other guy is more wary than Hazel. His bow and arrow is still pointed at me. "Who are you?" he asks, his tone brusque and border-line demanding.

Frowning at his rude tone, I answer slowly, "Cori from San Francisco. And apparently I am a demigod."

"You don't sound so sure about that," the guy says sharply, picking up on my waver in confidence. That arrow still threatens me from his bow.

"I'm not," I say in agreement. His arm holding the bow unconsciously lowers a fraction of a centimetre. He obviously has no idea how to respond to my comment.

Hazel gives the guy a pointed glare. He finally relaxes his hostile stance and points his arrow completely away from me. Hazel then looks at me. "Camp Jupiter's this way," she says in a friendly voice. "Follow me. Frank, you stay and guard the entrance."

The guy dips his head in acknowledgment. Hazel then turns around and enters the tunnel. I am right behind her.

The tunnel isn't really impressive or different from any other maintenance tunnel. At least, that's what I think this tunnel is supposed to be. Other than the fact that it is a secret entrance to Camp Jupiter, of course. Electric cables, wires, fuse boxes, warning signs, and the typical graffiti decorate the tunnel. The more we walk, though, I realise that the cement floor gradually shifts into something tiled and mosaic. The lights overhead change from factory-produced lights to reed torches that burn brightly even though we are in the side of hill and the air down here seems a little too damp for fire. A couple hundred metres ahead, daylight filters through an opening too far away for me to see.

"We're almost there," Hazel says to me. I can tell she thinks that I am tired and exhausted from my journey and from the walk through the tunnel. I don't bother on correcting her thoughts.

"Almost where?" I say. My brain seems to have blanked out during these past few moments.

"All roads lead to there," she responds cryptically. "Rome."

I stare at Hazel strangely. I know my geographical skills concerning California aren't the best, but I am pretty sure that Rome is not in California. She ignores my look of disbelief and leads us out of the tunnel and straight into sunlight.

I stop and blink at the bright light. Once my eyes adjust, I stare in awe at where I am. Right below me is a curved valley several kilometres wide. Inside the valley are smaller hills, meadows and plains, and a seemingly endless forest. A river, its path resembling the letter G, follows the perimeter of the place and cuts to a lake in the centre of the place. This locale could have been anywhere in Northern California — native oaks, eucalyptus trees, and blue skies paint the landscape. Mount Diablo, the big inland mountain, rises proudly in the distance.

But, as I look around even more, I realise that no, this place could _not_ be anywhere in California. It is its own special place. In the centre of the valley and by the lake lies a cluster of white marble buildings with red-tiled roofs. Some look like monuments, others look like palaces. An open plaza with columns, fountains, and cement-and-plaster statues gives this place a familiar European and Mediterranean feel. A five-story-tall Roman coliseum gleams in the Californian sun. Next to it is a long oval arena looking like a racetrack. South of the lake are temples. North of it is a long line of brickwork arches — an aqueduct — that connects the hills to the town. Right below is some sort of camp establishment.

"Camp Jupiter," Hazel says, seeing my questioning gaze at the area with the moat, wooden-spiked watchtowers, and buildings that sport purple silk banners. "I'll show you around later. But right now, you have to meet Reyna." She leaps through this swift-flowing river, obviously expecting that I will follow her. On the other bank, she looks over her shoulder and notices that I have not budged an inch. "C'mon. It's just the Little Tiber."

I shake my head resolutely. Water and I do not mix well together. Every time I have to make contact with water, it feels as if little pricks of electricity stab all over my skin like I am getting mildly electrocuted. It doesn't exactly hurt if I am subjected to it in short periods of time, but it is not the best feeling in the world. Something tells me that dipping a single toe into this river will hurt worse than swimming in my neighbourhood pool. And swimming in that pool is a horrible memory that I sincerely would not like to repeat.

"You have to cross the Tiber at one point if you want to get into Camp Jupiter," Hazel says, still not understanding why I am hesitant about crossing this river.

I get my head together and take a deep breath. Those inevitable tingly shocks are not strong enough to keep me from getting to my destination. I brace myself for the pain as I jump in. I quickly wade to the other side. I desperately try to ignore the burning sensations the entire time — ohmygods, is this acid water? — before I flop tiredly onto the other bank, feeling as if my life has drained out of me akin to the feeling I got when I touched the blade of my dagger.

"You all right, Cori?" Hazel asks, peering down at me with concern in her dark eyes.

I nod and try to diminish how much my body is trembling and twitching with uncontrollable spasms. My breath is laboured and my skin looks like it is faintly sunburned.

"Are you sure? You look like you just got electrocuted." Hazel glances away from me and yells out to some person nearby: "Hey you! Get me a medic as fast as you can!"

I look at Hazel, slightly horrified. "No, no I'm fine!" I say, my words tripping over one another in my haste to speak.

Hazel looks at me doubtfully. "Really." Sarcasm drips heavily from her voice. "Well, let's see if a child of Aesculapius agrees with you." It is quite obvious that she believes me to be seriously injured and an invalid.

"Hazel," I nearly plead. "I beg of you. Please don't get me a healer."

By now my breathing has slowed and my skin has stopped feeling as if it were on fire. The spasms have not occurred for awhile. The only part of me that is not yet back to normal is my skin — it is still a bit rosy and tender to the touch. I sit up and smile weakly at her to prove that all is well.

She purses her lips at me. Then, her golden eyes flicker up at a figure approaching us. "It looks like your wish has been granted. A healer didn't come." Hazel glances at me. "Reyna did. And that's worse."

.

.

"You claim that you are Roman and that you have a godly parent but your mannerisms are too Greek for my liking. This Stygian iron dagger at your side suggests that you have a friend from the Underworld. And you're too old for a typical Camp Jupiter recruit," a girl around sixteen says. We are now in the middle of camp. Reyna's presence brought a bunch of curious kids, and more keep coming. Obviously she is the leader of Camp Jupiter. If her confidence and popularity didn't clue me in, the official-looking purple cape she wears over her armour and the fancy medals decorating her chest did. "Tell us the truth: who are you?"

"Corina Santos," I respond, my voice clear and strong. I have never been one to be afraid of others' attention on me. But the fact that my response elicits nothing positive in my favour is new. Usually people are appreciative and interested in what I have to say. All my injuries from crossing the Little Tiber have faded thankfully, so I don't look weak anymore. I continue on with: "I trained with the wolf Lupa last month, preparing myself for admittance into this camp and this world of gods. Along the way, I encountered a hellhound and a guy who was kind enough to lend me a dagger to fight off any other difficulties I would face upon coming to Camp Jupiter." _Or the dangers within this camp like you_, I think bitterly. I make sure none of my thoughts leak onto my face, though. I pause and glare defiantly at Reyna. Well, maybe I didn't do a great job at censoring my emotions. "I come here expecting nothing, but I certainly did not expect this! My father, Jupiter, did not warn me about how unfriendly and unforgiving you people are. Perhaps I am wrong for believing him. He told me this camp was for people like me."

"You're a daughter of Jupiter?" somebody yells out. The crowd parts so I can see this pale lanky guy with a sneer plastered across his face. "As if. Prove it," he snorts, scepticism etched all over his voice.

I narrow my eyes at him. What a dumb thing to say to a person with a temper like mine. I barely have to blink before a funnel of dark storm clouds start spinning right above his head. People are shrieking and clawing to get out of the vicinity of my storm, but I pay them no mind. I concentrate on summoning lightning. Flickers of electricity dart in and out of my storm, but still, I don't feel as if it is enough to teach this guy a lesson. I close my eyes and let the comforting smell of ozone wash over my senses. When I open my eyes, my clouds part to reveal this giant lightning bolt positioned right above the guys head.

"Okay!" the guy bawls. "Okay! You can stop! STOP I said!"

I simply shrug and my storm vanishes. "Is that enough proof for you?"

The pale guys huffs and tries to act like he handled the situation calmly and maturely, but the fact that his face is glistening with tears of fear and the wet spot on his trousers confirming that he peed himself in fright does nothing towards helping his reputation.

"Corina Santos!" Reyna speaks sharply, her gaze stony and harsh. "That is enough! We do not threaten other campers here. And your...display of talent does not guarantee that you are a child of Jupiter. We will let your godly parent claim you in their own time. This is your first warning for acting out of disciplinary code. Disobedience is not tolerated well in Camp Jupiter. Punishment is expected, but I will let this unacceptable behaviour slide since you are new. Changing the subject, I want to talk to you privately. Something about your background doesn't sit well with me. Hazel, bring Corina inside. I want to question her at the_ principia_. Then we'll send her to Octavian during his consultation with the auguries. We must confer and discuss with what they say before we decide what to do with her."

"The subject is _not_ changed," I say hotly. I do not like how Reyna starts talking about me as if I am not here. "I violated your 'disciplinary code'? Well, pardon me, but I have no idea what the cumulonimbus you are talking about! I just got here, and you expect me to already know the rules of this place?"

Reyna stares at me with her eagle eyes. "Does this mean you would rather have a punishment in place of the generously offered free pass I gave you?"

"No," I seethe. "Don't you _dare_ twist my own words against me. If you had listened correctly, I said nothing of the sort about me wanting punishment. I believe I said that perhaps you should tell newcomers of this disciplinary code in place before you exploit their faults against them!"

"Enough!" Reyna proclaims. I get the feeling that no one has ever defied her orders before. "Hazel, take her to the _principia_. Now. Before we accept anyone into camp, we must interrogate them and read the auguries."

I scowl at Reyna, not at all enjoying the way she exercises her power over me so easily. Hazel just dips her head in acceptance of Reyna's orders and leads me out of the crowd. I follow her shadow. Nobody follows mine. Everyone quickly makes a path for us and watch as we pass by. None of them wear a friendly expression.

Hazel walks confidently around camp. Ghosts are everywhere — outside of the armoury, by the barracks, and in the lake. They pay no mind to Hazel, but as soon as they catch sight of me they stop and stare. A few hiss in disgust, and one even mutters foul obscenities including the phrase "_Graecus_!" at me. I have no idea what it means but I am tempted to see if killing a ghost will permanently send them to wherever dead ghosts go. Perhaps the Underworld, which I am guessing is the equivalent to Heaven and Hell.

"Hazel? Are those, er, ghosts?" I ask.

She turns and looks at me. Her expression is harder than it was before. For a second, her eyes blaze like a golden fire before dimming down. She looked pretty intimidating for a moment. Unconsciously, I flinch away from her. "They're Lares. House gods." She speaks in a clipped voice. Her words are short and matter-of-fact.

I get the hint. Ever since I defied Reyna, I became even more of an outsider. Every ounce of that no-questions-asked friendship we had before dissipated as soon as I challenged the workings of this camp. I silently curse myself for being so socially inept the rest of the way to the_ principia_.

We stop at the centre of camp where two cobblestone roads make a T-intersection. Hazel glances at me. Her voice is slightly friendlier than before. "Pay no mind to the Lares. They're ancestral spirits and sort of like mascots. Most of the time they're harmless. I have no idea why they are so worked up right now."

"Er, one of them called me a _Graecus_," I say. I'm glad she snapped out of her bad mood. Hazel seems really nice and sweet and someone I would rather have as a friend than an enemy.

"They called you Greek?" Hazel's voice is incredulous. "Maybe it's because you sort of look like one what with your dark hair. Do you know if one of your parents is Greek?"

I think back. "My mum is half Brazilian and half Greek." I momentarily forget that my hair isn't naturally black. I stay silent once I do realise that little detail, but I don't correct Hazel about it.

Hazel nods. "Then that's probably why. Romans and Greeks don't really get along real well. Sometimes Romans use _graecus_ as an insult for someone who is an outsider or an enemy. It's kind of a harsh blow, but I wouldn't really stress over it." Hazel points over to the main gates where a street sign labels it as the VIA PRAETORIA. There is another road labelled VIA PRINCIPALIS that cuts through the middle of camp. "There's our headquarters, the principia."

I adjust my gaze and see that she is pointing to a two-story white marble building. The entrance has two Roman guards stationed on both sides, and a purple silk banner with the letters SPQR inside a laurel wreath stitched on it.

"Ready?" Hazel asks me. There is a look of sympathy on her face. She seems to be familiar with Reyna's harsh and blunt character.

I shrug. "It doesn't really matter if I am or not, right?"

"Right," she answers with a grim smile. "Well, in you go."

.

.

Reyna stares at me. "Every demigod goes to train with the wolves before they arrive at Camp Jupiter. Lupa is the one who decides who is worthy enough of joining the Roman legion. Normally she picks younger demigods, though. How did you find Camp Jupiter?"

"Jupiter sent me here," I say adamantly. The _principia_ is pretty big, luxurious, and distracting, so I imagine that I don't sound as convincing and truthful as I meant to. But putting an extremely ADD/ADHD person in a room full of shiny marble floors, displays of important banners and bronze medals, a cluttered wooden table full of interesting objects, and two life-size greyhounds coloured silver and gold, is practically begging for said person to lose their train of thought and become interested in their surroundings instead.

Reyna frowns and purses her lips. I get the feeling that she still does not believe me. The dogs, Argentum the silver one and Aurum the gold one, aren't growling, though. I vaguely remember her telling me earlier that the dogs would attack or make noise if I stole something, lied, or if Reyna commanded them to.

"You're a bit old for a recruit," she says, changing the subject. "Fifteen, am I correct?" I nod. Reyna continues on speaking, barely acknowledging my response. "You should be dead, then. There is no way that a child of Jupiter, if your claims turn out to be true, could survive without attracting some sort of deadly monster. Your aura would be too powerful."

I don't say anything and just look at her. Reyna sighs. "Well, the dogs haven't eaten you, so I suppose that you are telling the truth." She starts pacing, hands behind her back, brow furrowed in deep thought. "Show me your dagger."

I comply, but I am a wee bit wary as to why she would want to see it. Out comes the lethal Stygian iron weapon from my pocket.

Hazel gasps. "Where did you get that, Cori?"

Reyna answers for me. "This weapon is derived straight from the Underworld. The metal is called Stygian iron, a metal that is cultured in the Underworld and dipped in the River Styx. It's deadly to monsters and demigods alike and extremely rare. Normally a child of Pluto can only channel the powers of the metal. And here on its hilt is engraved _Umbra_ which is Latin for 'Shadow'." Reyna looks at me suspiciously. "How did you come about this weapon?"

"I told you," I say in an annoyed voice. "I met a guy in a forest who gave it to me."

"Who is this guy? Is he a demigod too? Is he from the Underworld? Give me one good reason to trust you if your background is this shady and unclear," Reyna says harshly.

I glare back at her defiantly. "I only found out that I am a demigod yesterday. Before that I was told to come here to meet my fate and to fulfil my destiny. Other than that, I have no good reason to be here. Camp Jupiter was supposedly a place for people like me, but I can see that I am only unwanted and an outsider. I'm sorry, but I am _extremely_ tired of living that sort of life. So all you have to do is say that I am not welcome here and then I will be on my way back home pretending that none of this ever happened. Deal?"

"You have quite a temper," Reyna remarks. She gives no indication that she paid any attention to my rant. "You do seem like you have potential to be a good demigod. If your godly parent _is_ Jupiter like you claim, you could be a very useful ally..."

I snort in disgust. I don't like Reyna one bit. First she reprimands me, punishes and criticises me, and now she has the nerve to judge me solely based on who my father is!

"I'm not interested," I say shortly.

Reyna just shrugs. "We've talked enough for now. Hazel, take her to Temple Hill and find Octavian. On the way try to answer some of Corina's questions. Tell her all about the legion."

Hazel bows her head. "Yes, Reyna," she says respectfully. She then proceeds out of the _principia_, expecting me to follow. I stare at Reyna, but she is preoccupied with other more important things. Rolling my eyes at Reyna's behaviour — she takes this authority thing a little _too_ seriously — I follow Hazel to wherever this Temple Hill place is.

Along the way, I see some people in swimsuits and towels laughing as they head into a building with steam puffing up languidly out of a row of chimneys. I look to Hazel questioningly.

"That's the bath house," Hazel explains. "Hopefully you'll get to try it out before dinner. You haven't lived until you've had a Roman bath."

I wince. "I can't wait," I say sarcastically, thinking about my experience in the Little Tiber. I hope this bath house place doesn't affect me the same way the river did.

The barracks get bigger and fancier as we get closer to the front gate. Different banners and symbols hang in front of the buildings, which helps me to differentiate one building from another.

"You guys are divided into different cabins?" I ask Hazel as I look at the buildings lining the street on both sides.

"Something of the sort," she replies. She waves to a guy with a red-stained mouth who is demonstrating to some younger campers the techniques of archery. "We have five cohorts of about forty kids each. Each cohort is divided into barracks of ten—like roommates, kind of. That's about two hundred campers in total."

I scrunch my eyebrows together. "That many? Wow, the gods have been busy procreating."

Hazel laughs. "Well, not all campers are descended from major gods. Camp Jupiter accepts minor gods' children too. And some campers are legacies. Like, they're children of demigods. Second or third generation, you know, stuff like that."

I mull over that for awhile. The idea of this camp accepting pretty much everyone appeals to me. I come from a background where if you aren't the stereotypical Californian you're considered a mutant from Mars. Not the god Mars. The planet.

"So, these legacies. Do they have the same powers and capabilities of a demigod?"

"Depends," Hazel says. "But more often than not they are better in physical combat than demigods who usually rely on the powers they get from their godly parent. Legacies can be trained just like demigods, though. The best Roman generals and emperors claim to be either legacies or demigods. Usually, that was the truth. The camp augur we're going to meet, Octavian, he's a legacy, descendant of Apollo. He's got the gift of prophecy, supposedly."

"Supposedly?" I inquire.

She wrinkles her nose up. "You'll see."

Well, isn't that just fine and dandy? A feeling of anxiety starts creeping up along my spine. Some supposed flake is now going to have control over whether I get accepted into Camp Jupiter or not. Lovely.

I desperately try to bring the subject away from this Octavian. "So, er, these cohorts. Are the campers divided up by their godly parent?"

Hazel immediately shoots down my thought. "Of course not! That would be awful if that happened. I'd be all alone, then. No, officers decide where to assign new recruits. If cohorts were divided by parentage, there would be an uneven number in each cohort. We're all about military precision here at Camp Jupiter."

"Why would you be alone if you were sorted by ancestry? Who's your parent?" I ask her confusedly. With two hundred campers descended from the gods there must be a person who shared her godly parent with her.

Come to think of it, maybe someone here is a descendent of Jupiter too. A possessive emotion overcomes me. I then realise that I don't want to share my father with anyone else. I just met him after fifteen years of my life had gone by. I thought it to be natural to want him all to myself after not knowing him for so many years.

I then realise that Hazel has been very quiet for the past few moments. I got so distracted with my thoughts that I forgot what we were even talking about earlier. Stupid ADD brain does that to me sometimes. I vaguely remember some mentions of cohorts and whatnot.

"So, er, what cohort are you in?" I ask her.

Hazel jerks her head up, surprised. Apparently she was lost in her thoughts, too. "Oh, um, I joined the Fifth Cohort last September. It isn't the most popular, though. But if you get assigned to us, we'd be more than happy to have you. And don't tell the others, but the Fifth Cohort the most fun. Everyone else is a bit more judgmental and power-hungry around here. I can guarantee to you that the Fifth knows how to have a good time."

I smile. "Yeah. I'd like to be put in the Fifth." I pause and look around at our surroundings. "Hey, Hazel. Where are we?"

We're stopped outside of the main gates. Since we're at such a high altitude — we're overlooking down into the valley — we can see pretty much everything that is going on. The road we have been walking along leads down towards the river before it breaks off into two paths. One path leads south across a bridge and up a hill housing all of the big, grandiose temples. The other path leads north into the city which looks like a mini replica of Ancient Rome. Unlike the military camp, the city looks vibrant, lively, and colourful, full of bustling families and kids and crowded with buildings.

"You're looking down at the prettiest view of the Twelfth Legion Fulminata, or Armed with Lightning. Down there is the city. I love it there — there's always something to do. And it's kind of good that I like it in the city because once you're accepted into the legion, you're required to do ten years of service. So, naturally, people start families here during their ten years. After the ten years are over, people can go back out into the mortal world, but most prefer to stay in this safe haven. There's a college in the city and retirement is allowed. It's pretty much the only safe place on earth for people like us."

This place is appealing to me more and more by the minute. I fervently hope I get accepted into a wonderful place like this. But something Hazel was saying sparked a question to the forefront of my mind. "What happens if this valley is attacked, though?"

"There are defences in place, and the borders are magical. But lately monster attacks have been increasing for some reason. And monsters aren't dying anymore if we try to kill them."

I shudder. Monsters. I have yet to encounter a real one (I doubt Mrs O'Leary, the hellhound, counts as a true monster), and it is not something I am looking forward to doing since they seem to be inevitable in the demigod world. "How come they aren't dying?"

Hazel bites her lip, as if she is contemplating on how much she can tell me. "Well...," she hedges. "It's kind of complicated. My brother says it has to do with—"

She's interrupted by a big crack of lightning and the resulting sonic boom of thunder. Once the noise passes, though, she doesn't look like she is going to continue what she was saying previously. She points south across the river. Dark clouds huddle ominously over the hill with the temples. Red flashes of lightning bathe the monuments in a gory blood-colour.

"That's our destination," Hazel says. "We better get you to Octavian instead of touring around the camp all day."

She starts up towards the hill in silence. I follow suit.

Along the way, though, I can't help but replay the words she has spoken to me within the past couple of minutes. She had told me that she would be alone if the cohorts were sorted by godly parentage, but she had just mentioned that she had a brother. I puzzle about Hazel. She seems so mature, and yet she can't be any more than thirteen years old. And then there is this air of sadness and guilt following around her. Something tells me Hazel has a lot of secrets from her past that she would rather not have uncovered.

.

.

We travelled up a crooked stone path that took us past little altars and intimidating statues of important Roman figures. They all seem to be like Leonardo da Vinci's Mona Lisa — they all follow me with their eyes no matter where I walk.

Hazel continues to give me the scenic tour as we climb up the stone path. "There's the Temple of Bellona," Hazel says as she points out a temple out in the far distance. "Reyna's mom," she explains when I give her a questioning look. "Goddess of war."

I shiver. No wonder Reyna scares the precipitation out of me.

Hazel then directs my attention to a colossal red crypt decorated as bloodily and as gory as possible. I blanch at the cruelness that adorns this temple.

"That's the Temple of Mars Ultor. Ultor means 'the Avenger'. Pretty much just a fancy way of saying that he's the Roman war god and revenge and everything nasty and bloody and whatnot. He's the second-most important god of Rome."

I glance over at my companion. Her voice is flat and emotionless. I get the impression that despite the forced respect she has for this god, she is not very fond of him. I look back at the threatening temple dedicated to Mars and shudder. I don't blame Hazel. Just looking at the temple fills me with anger and revulsion.

I pull my gaze away from the repulsive crimson-coloured building and look up ahead. Up in the distance, clouds swirl ominously over the largest temple which is architecturally structured as a round pavilion with a ring of white columns supporting a domed roof. "Is that Jupiter's temple?"

"Yeah," Hazel confirms. "Octavian reads auguries at the Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus. Translation from Latin to English is—"

"Jupiter the best and the greatest," I finish her sentence, surprising both of us. "Er...I didn't mean to interrupt. The words just, er, popped into my head."

Hazel smiles. "I'm not at all offended, Cori. It's a good sign that Latin comes naturally to you."

I smile sheepishly. "Well, er, I actually had a few years of it in school..."

"Really?" Hazel asks curiously, her head tilted to the side. We're still climbing up the hill, but we're going at a much slower pace ever since we started our conversation. "Did you get straight A's in the class?"

"Yeah," I say. "I was really shocked when I saw my first report card. My Latin marks were so much better than my English marks." I laugh embarrassedly at the memory.

Hazel quirks a smile. "That's because demigod brains are wired for Latin and not English. Teachers assumed you were dyslexic, right?"

I stare at her, confused at how she knew that. "Yeah."

"And you were probably labelled as ADD/ADHD, am I right?"

Now this is beginning to get down-right scary. Who is this girl, a psychic in disguise?

Hazel takes my silence as an answer. "Every single one of us was labelled that at some point or another in our lives. This is just simple proof that you are one of us, Cori."

I look at her. My father's words ring in my ears: _'You are not weird or a freak or anything abnormal. In these people's eyes, you _are _normal._' I hadn't believed him when he had told me that, but now I understand that he was not lying to me.

Perhaps, given time, this place would become another place I could call home. That is, if I could get along with most of the campers. Hm. I don't think I'll be calling this camp 'home' for quite awhile.

I lose sense of time again as I muse over my thoughts. The trek uphill passes by rather quickly, and before I knew it, Hazel and I come to a stop in front of Jupiter's temple.

Something inside of me tugs me closer to the building. It is as if the place knows I am a descendant of its patron. The breath-taking domed ceiling is a sleek gold, reflecting light and effectively blinding me from time to time. Latin inscriptions and philosophical phrases adorn the marble floor along with glittering tile mosaics. The longer I am in the building's presence, the more the feeling it evokes inside of me becomes similar to what home feels like. A gentle breeze floats through the temple and twirls my hair playfully. It's almost as if the wind is agreeing with my thoughts.

"Hi, Dad," I whisper so low that it almost seems as if I am thinking the words and not saying them aloud. In response, the breeze wraps me in a soft and short embrace before floating away out of the temple.

I look around the holy place, admiring the sophisticated architecture and the simplistic yet ornate decorating of the place. In the middle is a statue of what I presume people think Jupiter looks like: he's completely made of gold, dressed in a purple toga that could fit a blue whale, and holding a lightning bolt high above his head like he is about to strike upon some poor, unsuspecting long-lost daughter of his. Actually, he kind of looks more like someone just swapped in a bust of him and placed it on the Statue of Liberty. And the lightning bolt is in place of the Liberty Torch.

Hazel makes a face and a disgusted type of noise. I stop revelling at my father's statue and go look at the marble altar where her scowl is directed. The object of her hatred seems to be a nondescript kid in a baggy toga that is waving his arms around as if he is doing a bad improvisation of the Chicken Dance.

My first impression is alarmingly wrong, though. I watch as the guy at the altar raises his hands. Red lightning flashes across the sky and shakes the temple. Then he puts his hands down, and the rumbling ceases. The clouds turn from grey to white and break apart.

It is a pretty impressive trick, considering that the kid doesn't look like much. He is tall and skinny, with straw-coloured hair, oversized jeans, a baggy T-shirt, and a drooping toga. He looks more like a scarecrow wearing a bed sheet than some impressive prophetic person.

"What's he doing?" I ask Hazel. The way he manipulates the sky rubs me the wrong way. I can practically feel the sky beg me to stop him from messing with it.

Hazel shrugs, a scowl etched deeply across her face. I glance between her and the guy in the toga with suspicion. I can see why she does not take a particular liking to him: the firm clutch on a lethal-looking knife in one hand and a gutted stuffed animal in the other sends out clear negative and warning vibes. Sensing our presence, the guy turns slightly. A twisted smile flickers roguishly across his face, and there is a slightly crazy look in his eyes.

"Oh," he says with pure contempt and disgust, yet the cold smile remains intact on his face. "It's you."

I give him a fake smile back. "Fancy meeting you here, trouser-wetter."

Hazel nudges me sharply in the side with one of her bony elbows. "_Cori_," she hisses with a glare. "Meet Octavian. He interprets signs that decide whether Camp Jupiter will accept you or not." Something about her voice lets me know that, in reality, it is Octavian who manipulates the interpretations of the signs so he has full authority to judge my fate.

"Oh, really?" I challenge. My cocky, self-assured side is in full-mode right now. I had already proved Octavian wrong before—why should now be any different? "I thought it was the Roman gods who held such power in this camp?"

Octavian laughs at me as if I am some naive, insolent person. "That is too funny, Corina!" he says, adding in a knee-slap for theatrics. "Hahahaha!"

I glance warily over at Hazel. She has some nasty look on her face as if a bug had flown up her nose. I think that it is safe to conclude that she does not care much for Octavian's presence. I don't blame her. This guy, who I had once thought harmless the first time I met him, is clearly mental. I would like to be a safe distance away from him — and that knife he is carelessly waving around — preferably within the next ten seconds.

"My name is Cori. Not Corina," I tell him firmly. I fail to see what was so funny about my earlier comment, but I do not want to engage him into a conversation that might not end in my favour. Who knows what Octavian might do then?

He stops his maniacal cackling and peers at me intently. He completely dismisses my reprimand and announces: "I have read in the auguries that _the Greek has arrived_. Are you the Greek they are talking about?"

I don't tell him about the muffled comments of _graecus_ that have been sent my way ever since I stepped into the camp. That little bit of information would do nothing in my favour if I share it with Octavian.

"I am of half-Brazilian and half-Greek on my mum's side, but I can assure you that my father, Jupiter, is one hundred percent Roman," is my vague response.

Octavian narrows his eyes. "Is that so?" Obviously my answer does not please him.

I shrug, feigning indifference. "Well, if you so terribly desired, you could argue the fact that Jupiter is half-Greek considering he shares the identity with the Greek god, Zeus, but I warn you that might not be the smartest idea to dispute right now since we are, after all, in the Roman Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus."

He grumbles at this but does not press me further in this subject. Smart guy.

"So, you know, as _nice_ as it is to be chatting with you, Octavian," Hazel says, her voice clearly expressing that it is anything but. "Our whole main purpose is to find out whether the legion will accept Cori or not."

"Mm," Octavian waves a hand—the one holding the knife—disinterestedly. The blade of the knife comes a bit too close to grazing my skin. Judging from his smirking facial expression, his action is intentional. "Yes, yes," he says, continuing to wave the knife. I take a couple steps backward until I am out of jabbing reach. As if noticing my discomfort for the first time, he suddenly turns and stares at me calculatingly. "You seem nervous, Corina."

I grit my teeth and ignore his use of my first name. "You seem like somebody that I've met before but I cannot seem to remember who." Adolf Hitler, perhaps? If Octavian grew a moustache, he just might be able to pass for the German dictator.

Octavian preens at my comment. "It could be my namesake, Octavian—Augustus Caesar. Everyone says I keenly resemble him."

I wait for Octavian to turn away before I flash a doubtful look over at Hazel. She grins and rolls her eyes at me, laughing silently.

"Aha! The auguries have spoken. Apparently Corina is allowed to join the legion. She should be assigned a cohort sometime soon. Go tell Reyna that I approve," Octavian proclaims suddenly, startling both Hazel and I. He observes our shocked expressions and gives us a suspicious glance. "Hmm. I've got my eyes on you two. A child of Pluto is trouble itself, but a newcomer in a time of crisis like this cannot bode well. What we need is two praetors guarding this camp, and Hazel, it would be wise of you to keep in mind when it comes voting time that you know who to vote for—"

"Which I can gladly assure you that my vote will absolutely not be in your favour—"

"Support me as praetor and I can guarantee that the camp will no longer be filled with such corrupt evil—"

Hazel clenches her fists and spits out in an incredulous tone: "Me. Support. You?"

Octavian narrows his eyes in disapproval at her attitude. "Yes. Just imagine, Hazel, how much I could benefit the camp if I could just apply my powers the way they were meant to be used. But, you know, I could just as easily use my powers to alter the social structure here at Camp Jupiter. All it takes is one little rumour or for one rumour to be the truth and the whole world comes crashing down for one person..."

My hand goes to my dagger that the stranger in the woods left me. It is so obvious that Octavian is blackmailing Hazel. I want nothing more than to inflict some bodily harm on this lying, conniving, devious, toga-wearing beanpole.

Beside me, Hazel takes a deep breath. Her knuckles are a ghostly white from being clenched so hard. "I'll...think about it," she replies in a low voice, the words sticking in her throat.

"Excellent!" Octavian grins, going through an intense bipolar shift from manipulative to satisfied. "By the way, your brother is here."

Hazel stiffens. "My brother? Why?"

He shrugs. "Like _I'd_ know," he scoffs in a degrading voice. "He's waiting for you at your father's shrine. Just do not invite him to stay too long. He isn't the most pleasant of company. Off you go, then. Don't forget to tell Reyna the good news! And, Corina, nice to formally meet you."

After hearing Octavian's blunt dismissal, Hazel drags me by the arm as she storms out of the pavilion. She then marches down the hill, cursing in Latin the entire way. She's mumbling, but I can understand from her tone of voice and the insults that she is not happy with Octavian.

"Son of a gorgon," she mutters just loud enough for me to hear. Her golden eyes are stormy and bright with fury. "I _hate _that guy. If I had my way, I would stick that power-hungry snake right in the—"

I quickly interrupt before Hazel can voice any more violent thoughts. "No one's really going to elect him praetor, though, right?"

"I sure hope to the gods not. Octavian has a lot of friends, most of them _bought_. The rest of the campers are afraid of him." She pauses and then adds in: "By the way, good for you, intimidating the hell out of him earlier. That was pretty impressive when you did all of that lightning stuff. Not to mention hilarious that he wet his trousers over that considering that he supposedly can control the sky too."

I snort at that outrageous thought. Sure, he didn't seem completely right in the head, but to be afraid of that skinny little guy?

Hazel speaks in a cautious tone, answering my thoughts. "Don't underestimate him. He has a lot more power than you think. And if you combine him and Reyna together..." she shudders, not wanting to complete her thought. I don't blame her.

"Let's go see my brother," Hazel says, skilfully changing the subject. "He'll want to meet you."

I don't respond. In truth, I really do want to meet Hazel's brother. He seems mysterious, and perhaps he knows who Hazel's dad is and what secret she is hiding from me. It's hard to think of Hazel as anything but nice, but judging from Octavian's actions, Hazel had done something that she wasn't too proud about.

She leads me to a black crypt built into the side of the hill. Standing in front is a teenage boy in black jeans and an aviator jacket. His back is towards us as he studies the on-goings in Camp Jupiter down below.

"Hey," she calls to him. "I've brought a friend."

The guy turns to face us. My heart almost stops, and I practically freeze. It's him.

I have this weird sense of déjà vu. His presence reminds me of the shadows I encountered in the redwood forest in Sonoma. Albeit this time I get to see his face.

He's pale. Not as pale as Octavian, but he looks as if he has never seen a ray of sunlight in his life. He has dark eyes that somehow burn brighter than the sun, yet they have this cold and unfriendly edge to them. His mid-chin-length messy hair is all over the place. There is a silver skull ring on his hand, a chain for a belt, and a black T-shirt with skull designs. A pure-black sword rests casually against his side.

He looks nothing like Hazel. Appearance-wise, they are polar opposites: he's all heavy-metal and gothic while she's liquid gold, pure and graceful.

Hazel notices the tension in the air between us. She tries to relax us and speaks in a soothing tone. "This is Cori Santos," she says. "She's an unclaimed Roman demigod. Cori, this is my brother, the son of Pluto."

He holds out his hand for me to shake. I hesitantly give his palm a faint squeeze before withdrawing my hand. When I look up into his eyes, there is a smirk gracing his face.

"Pleased to meet you," he drawls in a flawless British accent. "I'm Nico di Angelo."

I pause. Everything about him seems really familiar. Have we met before?

"I—I know you," I say, staring more intently into those eyes as I try to make some sort of connection.

He stares back, an eyebrow cocked. "Do you?" he asks casually. But there's an uncertain note in his voice. I know he knows me. Why is he pretending otherwise?

Hazel gives Nico a strange look. "What type of game are you playing, Nico? Now isn't the time. Back off; Cori isn't used to your intense mood swings."

Nico's expression grows stormy. "Chill, Hazel," he says with a roll of his eyes. He turns his back to me as he looks over at Camp Jupiter.

I'm still trying to figure out where I had seen him before. "Um, do you perhaps have anything to do with shadows?"

His shoulders tense, but he doesn't answer me.

"Stalker-type, moves in a forest, is acquainted with a certain hellhound named Mrs O'Leary...does any of this ring a bell?" I ask, my voice becoming more confident.

Abruptly, he turns to face me. On his face is a clear expression with the message _Drop it_ written all over.

Hazel huffs. She's obviously put out that she has no idea as to what is transpiring between her brother and me. "Would anybody like to explain?"

I stay silent, but from Nico's reactions to my words, I know he was the one in the Sonoma redwood forest with me. He was the one who gave me the dagger and helped me find my way to Camp Jupiter. I am still looking at Nico in an attempt to catch his eye.

"Staring isn't polite, you know," he mumbles, his back still facing Hazel and me.

"Yeah, well, why are you so opposed to anything that has to do with somebody being nice?" I ask him defensively.

Quick as lightning, Nico whirls around and has that deadly-looking midnight black dagger pointed underneath my chin, the tip millimetres away from my skin.

"You need to learn how to forget," Nico growls at me, his dark eyes flashing.

"What in the name of Pluto are you doing?" Hazel screeches. "You're being so _rude_, Nico! What has gotten in—"

"Thank you," I whisper at him. The next second, though, I've batted his dagger away from me and have my own sword — well, the one I got from him — pointed at his throat. "But you should learn not to leave your guard down. You never know who the enemy is."

His eyes flash at me, a mixture of emotions swirling around in those dark depths. I detect fury, admiration, respect, frustration, and appreciation in his eyes.

"Very true," is his response before he flashes a cold, eerie grin and disappears into the shadows.

I stare blankly at the spot where he had been. My thoughts are in a big jumble from my encounter with Hazel's brother. I thought meeting him would solve the questions in my head, but instead even more questions were raised.

I decided to forget any sort of irrational thought in my head and turned slowly to face Hazel. "Um...your brother...he can become a shadow?"

Hazel quirks the side of her mouth into a half-smile. "Something of the sort. Shadows, darkness, invisibility, dead skeletons, and ghosts are Nico's specialty." She sighs and mumbles in a voice that is supposedly meant to be only heard by her: "Lucky bastard gets the better powers of Pluto."

"Sure, sure," I respond lightly. "But only if you're into the bipolar personality and intimidating creepy shadow stuff."

She laughs. "Well, that's what anybody expects of a child of Pluto. We're not exactly the most popular or welcomed person here at Camp Jupiter." Hazel smiles at me. "You, on the other hand, are like some walking celebrity since you're the daughter of Jupiter."

"Great," I say sarcastically. I make a face at her last sentence and walk off away from the hill where we had been residing for the past few minutes. "Just what I want: a new reputation built solely on my father's actions."

Hazel followed me down off the hill. "Well, your challenging words against Reyna made a big impression on everyone. I'd say you already have your own reputation." She catches up to me, matching my walking pace. "You're not proud of Jupiter?" she asks with no judgment or opinion clouding her tone.

I kick a loose pebble off the dirt path in front of me. "I guess I'm proud of him," I say, but there's not a lot of truth or conviction in my voice. "Him being the king of all gods and whatnot. But he sucks as a father. I'm not proud about that. And his decisions and rules and all this load of rubbish about him having to distance himself away from his children even though he intervenes in my life every chance he gets...well, all I can really say is that Jupiter is far from being perfect."

Hazel makes some noise of reassurance and nods in agreement. "Most of the gods and goddesses are like that," she tells me softly. "Minus the part about them being the king of everybody, but still. No one is allowed to interact with their child."

"And what's the whole point of that?" I ask Hazel bitterly. "Do the gods think that if their kids are raised by a single parent they will live a life free of any monsters or mental mythological beings?"

"Of course not," Hazel responds. She reaches out a hand to brush the leaves of a tree as we pass by. Her warm gold eyes are open and honest. They flicker with truth, but I can see that she is suppressing something from me. "Cori," she says carefully. "Do you realise how...how crucial you are to the camp right now?"

I shake my head and look at her quizzically. Her question has definitely captured my interest.

"You're a daughter of Jupiter," she tells me yet again. "You are beautiful and smart and naturally influential. You are extremely persuasive and you have so many talents and gifts that the gods are wary of you. You could easily do much harm to Olympus, yet if you put your mind to it, you could just as easily benefit Olympus."

Hazel pauses and doesn't say anything else for awhile. I am not sure if there is anything else she wanted to add, so I say: "So?"

"See, you don't understand, Cori," Hazel says. "Camp Jupiter has been in some major trouble ever since our golden eagle was lost. But now that it has been returned, the odds have been in our favour. But luck doesn't last forever, and when it does run out we're going to be in a mess again. Camp Jupiter really can't afford that right now. Especially not if the Prophecy of Seven is to be fulfilled any day."

"There's a prophecy in place?"

She nods. "I doubt you're one of the seven, though," she tells me as if it would pacify me.

I furrow my brow. "Would you mind telling me more about this prophecy?" Perhaps it has something to do with all of that fate-fulfilling and destiny rubbish Jupiter was telling me a month ago.

Hazel shifts uncomfortably and clears her throat. "Um, well, I don't really know. You'd have to ask Percy if you want clearer details—"

My mind instantly focuses on one word. "Percy?" Immediately I am taken back to a memory that had happened only a few years ago...

.

.

_"Catch me if you can!" he called, his wide spearmint-coloured eyes dancing with mischief. He jumped nimbly up on the wooden boat and scaled up to the look-out position on the mast. "I double-dog dare ya!"_

_I giggled uncontrollably. "Nuh-uh!" I challenged him. "I'm gonna get you, Percy!"_

_Nine-year-old me took off across the school playground mulch and jumped into the wooden boat barefoot. I ran across to where Percy was still balanced up on the mast. Just as I got there, though, he leapt off and landed on his feet beside me. He deftly manoeuvred his way over to where the spinning steering wheel of the boat was installed in on the boat floor._

_Assuming a fake deep voice, Percy said into an imaginary intercom: "This is your captain speaking. Welcome aboard _Riptide_. We will be navigating through some rough waters before docking at Port I-Hate-This-School. Keep all hands, feet, and objects inside the boat. Thank you for choosing _Riptide_, and we, um, hope to see you again. It is now currently two-fourteen in the afternoon. Waters are a balmy eighty-three degrees Fahrenheit. Over and out."_

_I rolled my eyes at him and his ridiculousness. "Percy Jackson, what are you doing?"_

_He looked back at me, a look of exasperation all over his ten-year-old face. It was pretty hard to take him seriously, what with the messy mop of dark hair on his head, his impish eyes, and the non-ignorable fact that he was about the same height as me. The last factor didn't do much in terms of intimidation. "What does it look like I'm doing?" he said. "Honestly, Cori! I'm being the captain of a boat, duh." He makes some weird sound effects of what he thinks the motor of a boat sounds like._

_"Well, I don't want to play in this boat anymore," I whined, a petulant pout alighting upon my face._

_Percy immediately stopped spinning the boat wheel and came over to me. "Okay," he said agreeably. "So what do you want to play?"_

_I brightened considerably at my sudden power to change what game we were to do. "How about..." I looked around at the playground as I tried to come up with something fun and interesting to play. I spied the Tower no more than six metres away from where we were. "Greeks and Romans," I said. "Yeah! Let's play Greeks and Romans!"_

_We had just gotten some basic background information about the Mediterranean country of Greece in school a couple of minutes ago, and Percy and I were intrigued, if not obsessed, with what we had learned._

_"Okay," Percy said. "But I want to be Greek." He scrunched up his face in thought. "And I want to be the sea god, Poseidon. He does everything with water and earthquakes. I could beat you with my awesome water skills. And I could go back on the boat."_

_I made a face and crossed my arms defiantly. "Well _I'm_ not going back on that boat." I eyeballed the Tower where it stood with its impressive height. "I'll be Roman. And I'm going to be Jupiter, Lord of the Sky. Your water skills will be no match against my lightning!" I taunted Percy._

_I ran off the boat and went towards the grey Tower. Pausing, I contemplated my best way to get up it. The shortest and quickest way would be to climb up its sides, but unfortunately the Tower didn't have any foot or handholds to scurry up. The longer way would be to take the stairs but who in their right mind would want to do that?_

_"Here comes my flood!" Percy shouted and waved his arms in imaginary gestures that were reminiscent of the Avatar cartoons that Cartoon Network played on the telly._

_I just shook my head and laughed at him. "Nice try, Percy!" I said between snickers. I decided to brave the stairs and started climbing up the two-hundred-and-seven step staircase._

_Suddenly, his random arm spasm movements just so happened to pass over the school playground water fountains. They promptly burst and sent arcs of water in my direction._

_"Hey!" I protested as the water soaked me. "Stop it!"_

_Percy blinked at me in confusion. "But I'm not doing anything!"_

_I shook my sopping strands of hair out of my face. "Yes you are!" I accused him. "Stop aiming for me!"_

_"It's not me!"_

_In the middle of our argument, neither of us noticed the brewing storm clouds. Loud claps of thunder rang through the air, momentarily deafening us._

_"Cori?" Percy asked questioningly. The jets of water faltered and bubbled hesitantly in their fountains._

_I stopped climbing upwards on the staircase for a moment and looked above me at the storm. The black skies were hovering above me and nowhere else. Cerulean blue coloured the sky as far as my eyes could see, but only the small undefined area on top of me was darkened and rainy._

_"It's not me," I said to him uncertainly as I bit my lip. "At least I don't think it is." I started climbing up towards the top of the tower, wanting to get closer to the storm clouds._

_Percy shrugged. "Whatever it is, it's cool!" he proclaimed. Again, the water fountains shot out cold streams of water that drench me._

_I shivered and shot a reproachful glare at him. "I mean it, Percy! Stop hitting me with that water!"_

_"I told you that I wasn't doing it!"_

_I ignored him for now and climbed the last few steps of the tower. The storm hovered right above me. It was so close that I believed I could touch it. I reached up a hand and imagined myself to be holding one of those dark and beautiful storm clouds. I imagined myself to actually be the one who was creating them and not some god up in the heavens. As I closed my eyes, I wished harder and harder that my imagined thoughts would actually become my reality for just a few seconds._

.

.

"Cori?" I hear. "Hey, Cori?"

I blink, disoriented by the different hues colouring the landscape so different from my flashback memory. "Huh?" I say.

"You spaced out for a minute," Hazel tells me. Her golden eyes look at me with concern. "You okay?"

I nod distractedly. "Yeah," I tell her. "I'm fine."

From the look of disbelief on her face, I think it's safe to say that she does not believe me.

"Er, what were we talking about earlier?" I ask Hazel.

"Nothing," she says a little too quickly. With a vehement shake of her glossy brown tresses, she repeats, "We were talking about nothing."

"Okaaay," I say exaggeratedly, letting her know that I don't believe her lie. "Since we were talking about nothing, why don't we talk about something now? Let's start off with — aah!" My sentence is cut off because at that moment, my ankle decides to wobble on its side, sending me sprawling down to the bottom of the hill.

I groan as I skid to a stop across the dirt. From the sting on my knee, I make a guess that I had banged myself up pretty good. I can't get a look at my scrapes, though, because during my tumble, a piece of dirt had stubbornly decided to lodge itself into my right eyeball.

"Oh my gods!" I hear Hazel shout from wherever she is on the hill. The ground vibrates as she comes running to where I am. She hovers above me and sees my eyes watering. "Are you all right?"

Before I can answer, she combusts into a loud fit of giggles. "I'm so sorry!" she apologises in between snorts of laughter. "But it's bad habit of mine to laugh whenever somebody trips." I can tell that she is desperately trying to control her laughter but is having no success.

If it weren't me on the ground, I would have been laughing along with her because face it, a person tripping on air is pretty hilarious. But since it is me lying pitifully at the base of the hill, I wait a wee bit impatiently for Hazel to stop laughing at me.

"So," she says as she wipes her eyes on the sleeve of her shirt. "Are you okay? Did you hurt anything?"

I spit out a mouthful of soil and my hair that had flown in my mouth during my escapade. "I just scraped up my knee. And there's some dirt in my eye. Hang on a moment." I know it's not the smartest thing to do, but I stick my finger in my eye — I can already hear my mum rant on about the number of germs on my finger — and pull out my contact. Then I proceed to vigorously rub my eye until the dirt dislodges itself.

"Whoa, Cori. You look like you just had an extreme allergic reaction to something — your eyes are that watery, puffy, and red." Hazel peers at me closely. "Hey, I didn't know you wear coloured contacts. You have really pretty green eyes, Cori. Are your contacts prescription?"

I shake my head and immediately regret that I did. "Ow," I say. "I must have also hit my head or something. Gods, I'm so clumsy. I'm really sorry about this, Hazel."

"It's not a big deal," she says. "At least there are no broken bones. And I guess that means I won't have to call in a medic again. How did you manage to trip and fall?"

I shoot her a grateful glance about her comment that no healer is needed before I sigh apologetically. "I'm a big klutz," I say in way of explanation. "My ankle kind of gave out and I slipped and, well, you know what happened next."

Hazel's mouth curves into a smile. "Does this happen often?"

Blushing, I tell her 'yes'. "My balance and hand-eye coordination are also kind of shaky, too," I admit. "The ground I have this love-hate relationship."

"Makes sense," Hazel says. "You being the daughter of the Lord of the Sky and whatnot. No child of the Big Three can stand being in the others' realms."

I stare at her blankly. "Come again?" Did this perhaps have anything to do with me hating to be submerged in water and the tingly electrocuted feeling I get whenever water — especially salt water — touches me?

She lowers herself onto the ground, realising that we're going to be lying here at the base of the hill for awhile due to the fact that I am still mildly hurt from my tumble down no matter how much I try to deny the pain. "You are Jupiter's daughter. By default, you are then a child of The Big Three. The Big Three are brothers who split up the sky, underworld, and oceans with each other. You do remember this from mythology, don't you?"

"Jupiter, Pluto, and Neptune," I list the Big Three brothers, ignoring her last comment. "Are there any more kids besides me, you, Percy, and Nico?"

Hazel gets quiet. "Um...I'm not the best person to answer that question." She opens her mouth like she is going to say something else — perhaps the person I should ask the question to — but she closes her mouth and then avoids looking me in the eyes.

In a pathetic attempt to alleviate some of the awkward tension in the air, I say jokingly, "I'm sorry, are my eyes bothering you?" Then, I take out my other contact so I am no longer some mismatched. "Is this better?"

Hazel quirks the side of her mouth up and hesitantly raises her toffee coloured eyes to meet my gaze. Then her jaw drops and her hands fly to her mouth. "Holy Pluto, Cori. You look like Percy's sister with your dark hair and green eyes!"

My ADD brain only focuses in on one part in the sentence: my dark hair and green eyes. The other words she says to me are lost in a jumble of meaningless sounds. I laugh self-consciously, my fingers playing absent-mindedly with my tangled semi-straight black-dyed hair. I've never really liked how bright my naturally-coloured emerald green eyes are. Consequently, my mum has been buying me hazel-coloured-contacts for as long as I can remember. "Actually, this isn't my natural real hair, either," I tell her. "My hair is wavy and a light shade of brown. I dye it black and straighten it."

"Why do you change your appearance?"

I concentrate on blinking my tender eyes — they seemed to have stopped reacting to that speck of dirt that is long gone by now. In turn, I completely miss Hazel's question.

Obviously I am no longer really focusing on what Hazel is saying anymore. As I further withdraw my attention, I notice something that strangely looks recognizable. That tousled dark mess of hair just a few metres away from me could only be...

* * *

**Author's Note: Hey, I just met you and this is crazy. But here's my story, so review it maybe. (Carly Rae Jepsen has all the rights to _Call Me Maybe_. My version is soo much better though, right? ;) Just kidding. Please don't answer that.)**

**REVIEW.**

******PS: Next chapter is a _lot_ shorter. I swear on the River Styx.  
**


	4. Reminds Me

**Author's Note: Hey there. Long time no see. Okay, okay. I'll get to the story. (Somebody's a little impatient to keep reading. Not that I'm complaining...) Although, I know you know who the certain dark-haired person is. And that you know what's going to happen next. I suck at not being cliché. Anyways, without further ado, I present to you ladies and gentlemen...CHAPTER FOUR!**

**Disclaimer: No copyright infringement is intended. I wrote this story off of pure imagination, details from the Percy Jackson books, and lots and lots of KitKats. Yum.**

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**Train~ "Reminds me..."  
**

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Chapter Four: Reminds Me

**_Camp Jupiter  
Saturday July 20  
16.18 PM_**

I stare at this guy with familiar dark wind-swept hair and sparkling sea-green eyes, an almost exact replica of the boy in my flashback memory. "_Percy?_" I say rather loudly. The shock of seeing him here out of all places provokes me to act more brash than usual. Then I feel dumb once I realise that of _course_ he would be here and that Hazel had been dropping not-so-subtle hints concerning Percy throughout our entire conversation.

The guy turns around, looking for the person who spoke his name. From the way he is craning his neck, I can tell that he recognises my voice. "Cori? Corina Santos? Is that you?"

"Forgive me," I murmur to Hazel. She pardons me without a protest which I find strange but I don't question why. Hurriedly, I make my way to where Percy is standing with some heavy-set chubby-faced Asian guy. "Hey," I say as I stand in front of him.

Percy's beautiful eyes are wide with surprise. "Hey," he echoes in a stupefied tone.

I laugh at the awkwardness that has settled between the two of us. Fleeting images of our time on the playground flash through my mind, but I shake the memory away and concentrate on the present moment. "So what did you do to end up here?" I ask him.

Percy grins, that look of amazement still lighting up his face. "Oh, you know," he answers casually. "When you get Poseidon as your father, life as a demigod is kind of expected." He shakes his head, still smiling at me. "Wow, Cori. How long has it been? Four years? Five?"

"Six," I confirm as I hold up six fingers with both of my hands. But something Percy said caught my attention. Poseidon wasn't any Roman god that I knew of — in fact, if I recalled correctly, Poseidon is Greek. And wasn't Poseidon the cool Greek god with awesome water skills that Percy had wanted to be on the playground? Before I can voice my thoughts, though, Percy's companion joins in on the conversation.

The Asian guy next to Percy looks at me questioningly. "You know Percy?"

"Yeah," I say in a wondrous tone. "Well, when I was nine, I did."

So much about Percy has changed in the past six years. Puberty hit him hard. Gone was the short, soft-faced boy I knew six years ago. In his place was a guy—a _man_, even—with dark, brooding looks and those same captivating eyes the colour of green sea-glass. And how much can a person possibly grow in six years? Percy seemed to have gained at least a metre in height since the last time I saw him. It feels so awkward to have to look up at him now that he is no longer the same height as me.

And judging from the look on Percy's face, I am as changed to him as he is changed to me.

"So how did you two meet?" the Asian guy presses. I stare at stranger, thinking I have seen him somewhere before. "Percy here is from across the country."

"Frank," Percy says warningly. I don't get why, though. The fact that Percy lives in Manhattan has never been a secret before.

"We both went to the School for Misfits," I tell Frank, the guy I remember from the tunnel, deciding to ignore Percy's comment and its implications for now. "And then, er, well we kind of dated for a bit."

Frank's eyebrows shoot up. "You two?" he says incredulously as he looks back in forth between Percy and me. I don't think Frank remembers our encounter at the tunnel. Actually, I doubt Frank has made the connection between that scraggly new recruit to me, Percy's ex-girlfriend.

I have to stifle a laugh at Frank's comical expression and at Percy's blushing, uncomfortable behaviour. "Yes, us two," I verify.

"Was this before you met Wise Girl at your, um, East Coast summer home?" Frank asks Percy cryptically.

"_Yes_," Percy mutters with a terse glare at Frank.

"Hey," I say, waving my hand in front of both of their faces. "I'm still here. Don't talk in code in front of me. Now explain what you meant, Frank."

Frank glances at Percy, his face apologetic. To me, he says: "Um, it's kind of personal, Cori."

I squeeze my eyes shut, replaying the words I had said aloud. Did I really sound _that_ bossy and demanding? I mentally sigh. An authoritative attitude just comes easily to me. I don't even consciously realise when I become an interfering and assertive person. My face heats with embarrassment at how I spoke. It is no wonder why Frank avoids answering my demand.

"Sorry," I say as I look at the ground. "I didn't mean to intrude."

"It's cool," I hear Percy say in his easy, laid-back manner. I had forgotten how he liked to appease everybody and avoid confrontation as much as possible. "So, Cori, do you know who your godly parent is?" he asks in an effort to change the subject away from the awkwardness of our last conversation.

I glance up at him. "Er..."

"It's okay if you don't know yet," Frank says with a reassuring smile. "Mars let me live in the dark for a couple months until he decided I was worthy enough of attention." He backtracks quickly. "Not that I was implying that your parent thought you didn't need attention or anything...oh, monster rocks. I screwed this up, didn't I."

I shake my head at him. "It's fine. I know what you meant, Frank. You didn't offend me at all." I think back to something I noticed with both guys. "So is Mars a guy? And Poseidon...he's a guy too, right?"

"Yeah," Percy says, understanding my train of thought. "But your godly parent could easily be a girl, too. And here in Camp Jupiter, minor gods and goddesses also have a role. So you could be descended from someone such as Janus, the god of decisions. Which of your parents never seemed to be around? Your mother or father?"

"My father," I tell him. "But...I've met him before."

"You have?" The surprise is evident in Percy's voice and Frank's face.

"Yeah," I say absent-mindedly, thinking back to the day when Jupiter showed up at my apartment. "He was talking about fate and destiny and something about a life I have to lead. And then he told me I had to come to Camp Jupiter if I wanted to fulfil my destiny."

"And did you get a chance to see what he looked like?" Percy questions.

I rack my brains as I try to recall what my father had worn. Something grey and pin-striped... "He looked like a fancy business man," I say. "Stormy grey eyes. Salt-and-pepper coloured hair. A grey pin-striped suit and shiny patent leather Italian shoes."

Percy's eyes have widened. "Cori...your father is—"

"Jupiter," I interrupt, shrugging. "Yeah, I already know. So what does that mean? Is he my godly parent?" I have a hard time imagining that person in my kitchen as a god.

"Not just any god," Frank breathes in awe. He's looking at me with some sort of respect. "He's the Lord of the Universe, Cori."

There's a long period of silence as I try to process this. Finally, I give up. "Guys, seriously," I tell them. Their faces don't change: Percy still looks panicked and Frank is still in worship-mode.

"We saw a storm cloud earlier," Percy says slowly. "We thought it was Zeus at first. But, on second thought, was that you?"

I nod, not sure at what he is getting at. "Yeah. Some kid was giving me hail for me claiming that Jupiter was my father."

"Giving you hail?" Frank asks quizzically. "_Oh_," he says, getting it. "Your fancy country version of the Underworld." He laughs. "Country accents don't work that well when you already have a British one." Frank is mocking me: he pronounces 'well' like 'wail' in response to me saying 'hail'.

"Thanks for the tip," I say back sarcastically.

Frank holds up both hands palm up in a gesture of defence. "Whoa, there, Cowgirl. No need to get the spurs out." He cracks up at his Western-themed comment.

I give Percy a look that clearly says: _Your friend is nuts._ Percy just answers with a shrug, his typical and blasé response to any question.

I glance around the street, still unused to the layout of the camp. The architecture of the buildings look pretty amazing, but they're old-fashioned and traditional and not what I am really interested in. Food vendors line the sides of the street, and my stomach rumbles softly when I catch sight of a delicious looking Cornish pastry filled with jam. I instantly quell the food craving. If I had it my way, every time I saw some sugary treat I would buy it. But then, of course, my metabolism wouldn't be able to keep up with my sweet tooth, and I would not be able to keep my thin figure. Sigh.

Percy is saying something and effectively distracts me from the mouth-watering trolley of Cornish pastries. I am half-glad and half-annoyed by the interruption.

"Hey, Frank," Percy says to the Asian guy. "Why don't you go see if Hazel wants any help with the horses?"

Frank immediately perks up. "Yeah, that sounds like a good idea." He dusts off imaginary lint from his purple Camp Jupiter shirt before he goes over to where Hazel is.

I snicker. "Somebody's smitten."

Percy nods, a happy smile on his face as he watches the two interact. "It's taken them a couple of months to get together, although they're still a bit shy with each other."

Smiling at the image of Frank and Hazel together, I say: "They're cute." I turn to study Percy for a bit. "So who's the girl in your life?"

"What girl?" he asks, playing dumb. The tips of his ears are turning bright red, though, giving away his nonchalant façade.

I roll my eyes but don't respond to him. Dumb questions deserve dumb answers. Or, in my opinion, no answers at all.

Percy gets quiet. I get the sense that he wants to respond to my question but doesn't quite know how.

"I don't suffer from Jealous Ex-Girlfriend Disease," I say as an icebreaker.

Immediately, Percy visibly relaxes. "Annabeth," he tells me with a touch of pride in his voice. "Her name is Annabeth."

I can tell from the way he says her name, this Annabeth is Percy's whole world, moon, and stars. I might have lied a teensy-weensy bit when I told Percy that I wasn't a jealous ex-girlfriend. How could I not be the slightest bit irked to hear that I wasn't the girl of his dreams?

"Tell me about her," I say, making sure that no jealousy seeps into my voice. I am perfectly happy with being in the friend zone with Percy. Unfortunately, feelings from old relationships fade but they never seem to go away. And those feelings are threatening to show again, and that is something I desperately do not want to happen.

"She's beautiful," he begins, looking off into the distance. "She doesn't try to be, but she is. Her mother is Athena—Minerva, as a Roman goddess—and her father is a college professor. Annabeth wants to major in architecture and go to an Ivy League college although she can't decide which one. She's incredibly smart and logical and can talk about building structures for hours on end. Annabeth hates cows, courtesy of Hera, and she hates that I'm a magnet for trouble. She has curly blonde hair and grey eyes and can kick everybody's ass in an argument. And I love her."

I smile at Percy's happiness. That's all I ever really wanted for him. In our relationship...well, we were just little kids trying to figure out the whole dating business. Needless to say, both of us were unsatisfied with our relationship. And during his description of Annabeth, I notice that she and I have absolutely nothing in common. And maybe that's why Percy loves her and not me.

"Is she here?" I ask him as I look around, trying to spot a girl with curly blonde hair and grey eyes. "And why do you keep referring to everybody by their Greek names? We're at a Roman camp, Percy. Shouldn't you be calling them by their proper Roman names?"

Percy takes a deep breath. "Cori," he says slowly. "I'm not from here. Actually, I was never really supposed to see this place. This isn't my camp."

I stare at Percy. "Not your camp? What does that mean? Isn't this the only camp for demigods?"

"Camp Jupiter is the only camp for _Roman_ demigods," Percy corrects me. "I'm a Greek demigod. Our camp, Camp Half-Blood, is over on the East Coast."

I gape at him. I am thoroughly dumb-founded. "Whoa there, sailor. You mean to tell me that there are even _more_ people like us in this world?"

"If you mean demigods, yes." Percy runs a hand through his hair. "In fact, a lot of famous people in the mortal world are demigods too. For instance, George Washington was a descendant from Athena."

"Forreals?" I say, totally not believing a word Percy is saying. "You're not just making that up?"

He laughs. "I am being a hundred percent truthful, Cori."

I continue to stare at Percy dubiously. "Tell me about this Greek camp. Camp Half-Blood."

Percy grins. "Sure," he says. "But can we go over to the lake? Standing around in the middle of the street isn't my ideal place to socialise."

I blush, realising just how long we have been talking to one another. And that I seem to have developed some sort of liking for stopping in the middle of streets to talk. "Yeah," I say. "To the lake."

We make our way over to the lake, a beautiful crystal clear pool of water fed from the Little River Tiber, and sit on its rocky shores. The sun has started to fade underneath the horizon, and a dark, inky colour is starting to replace the fiery strands of light.

"Remember when we were real little and you told me you could predict the weather?" Percy says.

I smile in commemoration. I hadn't known it back when I was that young, but I was then one who was always creating the weather I 'predicted'.

"And then that one time you threatened to run away and live in the ocean and become a pirate!" I giggled. "Sally almost had a heart attack that day." My voice grows quiet as I remember our shared childhood and how it used to be so easy to talk and laugh and just be myself around Percy. Now, with all of the years between our youth and the present, I felt guarded about revealing anything substantial to him. The feeling of secrecy had strengthened once Percy had mentioned the Greek camp he belonged to.

"How is your mum?" I ask Percy in an effort to stop dwelling on my heavy thoughts.

Percy smiles easily. "Doing well." His face clouds for a moment and I sense that he wants to tell me something. But he shakes the frown off of his face and asks me about my own mother.

"She's dandy," I tell him. I am kind of hurt that he didn't share with me what was truly on his mind, but I did the exact same only a few moments ago. "She didn't take the news well that I had to go to Camp Jupiter for the summer, though."

He nods. "Mom was the same way about Camp Half-Blood. She's pretty cool about it now, though. Only time she worries is when I have to go fight some crazy monsters or resurrected Titans..." His voice trails off and we are left sitting in another uncomfortable silence.

Absent-mindedly, I wonder is it possible to have as many tense and awkward silences as we are having right now. Perhaps Percy and I could break the Guinness World Record for the most. Now that my brain is off in la-la land — thank you very much, ADD part of me — I contemplate if Annabeth would like me. Or rather, would I like her? I wonder how she would handle the fact that Percy and I are exes. I pray that she is not one of the envious types.

I reach down beside me and pick up a stone. It's smooth, weathered from the many waves wearing it down, and the warmth it had absorbed from the summer sun is fading away as the night air cools the stone's surface. Something Reyna said many, many times is surfacing to the front of my mind. "Percy? Er...how old were you when, er, well, when you went to Camp Half-Blood?"

He holds his hand out, waiting for me to pitch the rock to him. I do, but my hand-eye coordination isn't the best and it is a wonder that I don't brain him with the pebble.

"Sorry!" I say, thoroughly abashed. Chagrin colours my cheeks, and I duck my eyes in embarrassment. The pebble had flown out of my hand, barely missed the side of Percy's ear, and dunked itself into the lake water.

"No harm done, Cori," he says lightly, but I notice that he does not ask me to toss him another stone. Instead, Percy reaches his own hand onto the ground and picks up a few rocks to toss from one hand to the other. Internally, I smile. I'm glad to see that his inability to stay still hasn't changed.

Interrupting my thoughts, Percy says in answer to my question: "I was eleven. That was the summer when Zeus's master bolt was stolen."

"His...master bolt?"

"It's the lightning bolt that all other lightning bolts are modelled after." Percy stops throwing his rocks and peers at me curiously. "Five years ago, Cori, were you having trouble summoning lightning bolts during the summer?"

I shrug and say, "I don't remember. I wasn't trying to summon lightning at that point in my life, you know?" At that moment, I realise that a conversation between two extremely ADD/ADHD people like me and Percy is not the best idea: we have strayed so far off-topic from my original question I had asked twenty minutes ago. "So, um, Percy. Back to what I was saying earlier — are most demigod recruits around the age of eleven like you were?"

"They _should_ be," Percy states strongly, but his voice contradicts his words.

"They aren't?" I guess. My mind is wandering off towards the conversation I had earlier with Reyna. Her incessant comments that I was 'too old' for a recruit made me wonder if I am some abnormality. Well, more than I already am.

He nods in response. "I got the gods and goddesses to agree on claiming their children as soon as possible, but you know gods. They're always running around and have better things to do than to pay attention to their kids." His voice slightly turns bitter at the end.

I want to agree with Percy, but I also get a strange urge to defend the gods. "Maybe. But I heard from someone that there is a policy in place limiting how much a god can interact with their child."

Percy makes a face. "I know. That policy has been around for forever. It sucks, though."

I laugh humourlessly. "Tell me about it." I sit for a minute, thinking. "Actually, I think my father made up that rule." I shake my head amusedly. We had gotten off topic once again. I stretch my injured leg — the one that had been scraped when I tumbled down the hill earlier — out in front of me and hiss in pain as the scab breaks slightly and a little trickle of blood oozes out.

"Ouch," Percy winces as he catches sight of the wound. "That looks nasty. What'd you do, Cori? Get in a fight with a hellhound?"

"_No_," I say with a pointed glare. Belatedly, I realise I _had_ 'fought' a hellhound only a couple of hours ago. Wow, did I really come to Camp Jupiter a few hours ago? Time is an elusive concept for me. It's a side-effect of my ADD. "Just, er, a little clumsy today, that's all." I feel a little colour rise to my cheeks as I recount my tumble down the hill to Percy.

Like Hazel, Percy laughs at me. "Smooth move," he says sarcastically, an easy grin on his face.

I roll my eyes at him. "Thanks," I answer back with the same amount of sarcasm. Something he had said earlier is still on my mind, though. Changing the topic of the conversation yet again, I say, "So what do you know about hellhounds, Percy?"

He cracks a genuine grin. "Well, I wouldn't say that I'm an expert on one," he says, ducking his head and faking modesty to get a laugh out of me. It works. I punch him lightly on the arm and ask him to continue on with his train of thought, though. I'm actually serious about finishing this topic.

Percy rubs the spot on his left upper-arm where I had hit him. "Holy kelp, Cori. That hurt," he whines at me.

I make a face at him. "Stop being such a guppy and get on with your story about how you became such an expert on hellhounds."

"I am not being a guppy!" he responds indignantly. At my sharp glare, he shuts up and resumes with his story. "Well, if you insist on making this long story short, I'll have you know that I own a hellhound."

My jaw drops. "You do?"

"You don't have to sound so incredulous," Percy grumbles and starts to toss his rocks from one hand to the other again.

I quickly close my mouth. "No, no," I say. "I am just under the impression that hellhounds are dangerous and scary monster creatures from the Underworld."

Percy eyes me. "Who told you this?" he asks suspiciously.

I lift my chin and reply haughtily: "No one. I happened to encounter one on my way to Camp Jupiter, that's all. I'm perfectly capable of making my own opinions, you know."

"Dangerous and scary, huh?" Percy says, ignoring my last statement. "Did you put up a good fight?"

I didn't like the way Percy seemed to imply that I am some defenceless and weak female. Deciding to milk this for all it is worth, I embellish the facts a wee bit. "Of course I did!" I splutter at him. "There were a few close calls, but I was lucky and made it out of there without a scratch. You should've seen that hellhound — nothing more than a trembling ball of fur once I was done with it."

"A trembling ball of fur? Mrs O'Leary would've just stopped and licked you senseless," Percy chuckles.

My face freezes at the mention of Mrs O'Leary. How did he manage to unearth the truth so fast? "Mrs O'Leary?"

"Yeah," Percy responds, not noticing my deer-in-headlights facial expression. "She's my hellhound."

"She's...yours?"

Percy frowns. "Didn't you hear me? I just said that." He glances over at me and finally notices my fishy behaviour. "All right, Cori. Spit it out."

I squeeze my eyes shut and say really fast in an embarrassed voice: "TruthisthehellhoundI'fought'wasactuallyyourhellhound,MrsO'Leary. ButIdidn'tknowthatbecausewhenIsawher,shewaswithNico."

I keep my eyes closed and wait for the verdict. Nothing comes. The silence between Percy and me starts to get louder and louder until it is deafening. Unable to take it any longer, I open my eyes to find Percy staring at me. From the crease on his forehead, I deduce that he is still trying to figure out what I had said.

"Um, say it again, a little slower this time?" he asks me.

I laugh nervously and do so. Percy does not have the reaction that I expected him to have; in fact, he's laughing. I scowl at my childhood friend. He continues to laugh, oblivious to my exasperated glare I am giving him.

He wipes his eyes from the supposed tears of mirth. "I'm sorry, Cori," he says, still chuckling intermittently. "But I really don't see what the, uh, problem is."

"You don't?" I respond, half incredulous at how dense Percy is and half relieved that I won't be reprimanded by him. "Well, then I won't explain it to you."

Percy frowns. "Now you're giving me the feeling that you're hiding something."

I am the picture of wide-eyed innocence. "Me? Hiding something? Very funny, Percy, considering that I told you everything a couple of minutes ago."

Percy just raises his left eyebrow in answer, silently goading me into answering him.

"Gods, Percy, you are so _infuriating_!" I exclaim as I throw my hands up in the air in exasperation. "Whole story: I'm embarrassed that I made up that story about fighting your cute and fluffy hellhound considering that Mrs O'Leary was pretty friendly and, er, a little enthusiastic with the tail-wagging. She took down a couple of trees, you know."

His expression didn't change as he waited for me to continue on.

I glare back at him. "What? I told you everything." I pause. "Well, everything except for the question as to why _Nico_ out of all people is baby-sitting your hellhound." Now it's my turn to sit back with the raised eyebrow on my face while I wait for him to answer me.

Percy clears his throat and doesn't look me in the eye.

"Well?" I prompt him after he stays silent for more than five minutes. He still doesn't say anything. "Fine," I say huffily. I stretch out a hand with my palm facing upwards. "Give me your rock."

He looks at me bewildered. "My rock?"

I roll my eyes. "Yes, your rock. The one in your hand right now? That one." He tosses it to me hesitantly. I miss, of course, but I don't let that faze me. "Okay. Hold your right hand out, palm up. If I manage to touch your hand with the rock, you tell me your answer. If not, you can subject me to baby-sitting Mrs O'Leary for an hour."

Percy tilts his head to one side and squints up at me. "That's hardly a punishment," he responds.

"Well, we all know that I'm going to be able to touch your hand with the rock, so it hardly matters what the other option is, right?" I say pompously.

Percy scoffs, obviously not believing in my rock-tossing skills. I am immediately reminded of when we dated. It was pretty much like this, an easy friendship with a big dose of competitiveness and sarcasm which turned into flirting and then some shy and chaste kissing and...there goes my brain, wandering down Memory Lane again.

"Deal," Percy says, bringing me back to reality.

I smirk. "Okay. Don't hate me when I say 'I told you so'." Then I lean forward and touch his outstretched hand with the rock before he has time to register what I did. "Done." I look up at Percy, a shit-eating grin on my face. "I told you so," I say to him.

"Hey, no fair!" he says back. "You cheated, Cori!"

I laugh at him. "You didn't clarify the rules, Seaweed Brain."

He freezes. "What did you just call me?" he asks. His voice is a bit hoarse which I find strange.

"Seaweed Brain," I repeat slowly. "Why? Do you not like being called that or something?"

Percy shakes his head incredulously. "Only Annabeth calls me that. How did you...?"

I shrug. "I don't know. It just popped into my head." He is making this way too serious for my liking. "Haven't you heard that great minds think alike?"

"Yeah...," he answers, still looking at me strangely.

I can tell that our moment of light-heartedness has passed. I try to steer the conversation back to my reward for winning that game we had played. "So," I say. "I won. So now you have to tell me about this supposedly secret thing you have going on with Nico." I wiggle my eyebrows at him in a mock-creepy way as I suggest some sort of in-the-closet relationship between the two.

That snaps Percy out of his daze. "Wha...? Ew, no!" He sticks his tongue out at me in a surprisingly childish manner. "Gross, Cori!"

I laugh. "Only a person with something to hide would act that strongly," I taunt him.

Percy makes a face at me. "Just stop talking!" he says, laughing back. "That is so disgusting what you said!"

"What?" I respond innocently. "I didn't say anything. You thought of it, Percy."

He shudders at me. "Don't even kid about that," he tells me seriously. "Nico is like a younger brother to me. That's just...ugh," he says, shuddering again.

"Okay, Nico is not involved in an in-the-closet relationship with you. One presumption checked off the list."

"Why would you even _presume_ that, Cori? That's like the grossest thing...and to think I am having some illicit affair with a kid who is practically family to me...I am not incestuous, you know!" Percy nearly bellows.

I laugh and laugh and laugh. His tempestuous expression cracks me up. I am nearly beside myself with laughter, and I tumble gracelessly off my rock and proceed to roll all over the rocky beach. It is not the smartest and most comfortable idea I have ever had, but the happy endorphins erase all my sense of pain. Those little rocks stabbing my back and shoulders could have been a feather-bed for all I can feel.

Apparently I have rolled too close to the edge of the lake, though, because the next thing I know, a monstrosity of a wave comes crashing over me. I freeze and am paralysed momentarily. The familiar tingly, itchy, burning sensation overrides any of my endorphins. And then comes the pain.

"Cori? Cori? Are you all right?" I hear Percy say worriedly. The wave immediately vanishes which slightly reduces the stinging feeling, but the pain is still great enough to burn my skin and render me unconscious. The last thought I remember having is, _Keep your head above the water. It knows nothing of mercy_.

* * *

**Author's Note: These characters just talk and talk and talk! I would love if all of you dear readers would do the same when you review because I know EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU READING THIS IS GOING TO REVIEW THIS CHAPTER, RIGHT?**

**"Keep your head above the water. It knows nothing of mercy" is a famous quote made by Anonymous. LOL.  
**

**Now that we've got that settled...Cori and Percy are so awkwardly cute together!  
And I would like to say that I have nothing against Annabeth. I know I make her really OOC (Out-Of-Character) in this FanFic, but remember, this is from Cori's ex-girlfriend point-of-view. And ex-girlfriend's do get pretty jealous of the current girlfriend. I speak from experience.  
**

**Oh, some important things I would like to stress about Cori's character: she is half-Brazilian and half-Greek from her mother. She is a Roman camper, and her father is Jupiter although Jupiter takes on more Greek qualities around her rather than his Roman alter-ego. She speaks with a natural British accent (if you want to be specific, Rosie Huntington-Whiteley's accent). She lived in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil for four years; London, England for three years; Manhattan, New York for two years; and San Francisco, California for six years. She is a year younger than Percy and two months older than Nico which makes her fifteen.  
**

**Got that? Cool. So, people, how about that review?  
**


	5. There's a Time to Change

**Author's Note: I don't know Nico's real birthday, so I took the liberty of making it July 21 (kind of a paradox since it's the summer solstice and he's the son of Pluto who's all about darkness) but honestly, he's like barely a teenager in the canon and it's kind of awkward to write about flirting with someone who's fourteen. So now he's fifteen, same age as Cori (:  
**

**Disclaimer: Hi, my name is not Rick Riordan. I didn't create the brilliant Percy Jackson series.  
**

* * *

**Train~ "...that there's a time to change, hey..."  
**

* * *

Chapter Five: There's a Time to Change

**_Camp Jupiter — Fifth Cohort Barracks  
Sunday July 21  
7.33 AM_**

"Rise and shine, biscuit," Hazel chirps at me. "It's a beautiful day. Plus, last one up gets stuck with more chores than everyone else!"

I groan at my chipper friend and try to ignore her for the time being so I can drift back into dream land. I was having the loveliest dream about blue pancakes and waves lapping against a beach that looked strangely like Montauk Beach and cloudless starry nights. And also, I have no idea in the slightest about these so-called chores Hazel speaks of. Isn't this place supposed to be a camp? And if I am not mistaken, this is supposed to be a recreational camp with emphasis on the _fun_ part, right? Because Jupiter said this place is for 'people like me', and if he knew me at all, my name is pretty synonymous with the word 'fun'.

Ooh, my brain is starting to throb. Too much thinking is going on inside my head so early in the morning. I think the throbbing-of-my-head is a sign that I should be sleeping and not an awake participant of the non-dreaming people. I snuggle underneath my blankets so I can possibly try to get comfortable enough for my subconscious to take over. I've just gotten all warm and cosy when something icy and cold splashes onto me.

"Ahh!" I scream at the frigidness. My eyes pop wide open and I start to shiver violently. "Less ice cubes next time, people!" I jump out of my sopping wet bed and glare at the person who threw the pitcher of ice water on me. A stranger that looks about eighteen shrugs guiltlessly at me, the red Kool-Aid stain on his mouth twitching as he begins to smile.

"Don't blame me," he says, the smile turning into a full-fledged grin. "It was all Hazel's idea."

"Yes it was," Hazel agrees, happily taking all of the credit. "And now you need to get a move on, Cori! Time flies when you're not doing anything!"

I rub the sleep from my tired eyes. I am still half-asleep, so I am not really alarmed by the presence of this strange bloke with the red Kool-Aid stain on his mouth. And the fact that I am in an odd place I've never seen before has not gone unnoticed by me, but I am too sleepy to question Hazel about it. "I believe time goes a lot slower when you are lazy."

"Well whoever told you that is wrong," she says contradictorily. Her tone brooks no argument, and no argument is made.

I stumble blearily around and try to get my bearings. The events from yesterday come raining down upon me: my arrival at Camp Jupiter and the shock of seeing Percy again. But there was something else that happened yesterday that seems to be eluding my mind right now...

That shock about seeing Percy never seems to go away, for in my stumbles, I accidentally collide into him, surprising both of us.

"Hey, you," Percy says with a smile. "You're finally awake."

I glare at him, all confusing and hazy thoughts scattering from my mind. "Yeah, no thanks to the witch Hazel over there," I gripe.

"Nice play on words, Cowgirl!" Frank calls to me from where he is sitting lotus-style on the floor with incense burning nearby. He takes a calm, zen-like deep breath and opens his eyes to find Hazel glowering at him. "What?" he asks her ingenuously. "You have to admit that you _are_ kind of like witch hazel. Stingy and soothing at the same time like the plant and, you know, sort of witchy at times, Hazel—"

"Shut up," Hazel grumbles at her boyfriend. "You're only supposed to say the positive things about me to my face, remember?"

He blinks at her slowly and innocently, closely resembling an owl for a moment. "When did I agree to that?"

Hazel just throws her hands up in the air in defeat. "Some days, Frank Zhang, you are so _clueless_!" She then directs her full attention onto me. "Hurry up, Cori. Another minute in here with him and I think I just might spontaneously combust."

"If you know you're going to explode it won't be spontaneous," I point out to her. Bad move. That smart-ass comment rewards me with a death-glare from Hazel. And since she's a child of Pluto, she has the glare perfected. Under her intense scowl, I feel like I want to shrivel up and shrink into myself in a cowardly way and never show my face to the world again.

Then, Hazel's face goes blank and I feel a bit normal again. "This is me, counting to three," Hazel says flatly and takes three deep breaths that she obviously learned from her meditating boyfriend. Then she looks into my eyes. "Are you ready yet, Cori?" She seems determined to forget what happened within the past five minutes. Her demeanour is decidedly more chill and relaxed although she is as bossy and demanding as always.

"Where are we going?" I ask her. I look down at myself to see that I am clad in my starry night sky pyjamas that have glow-in-the-dark constellations decorating the fabric. I also know that I have a serious case of bed-head right now that I want to fix as soon as possible. I left my hair straightener in my flat in San Francisco as well as my Blackest Black hair dye so my hair is slowly turning back to its natural brown colour and the tangled, frizzy, crimped-looking waves are forming from my once-glossy-and-straight hair. Sometimes it feels as if life hates me.

"Breakfast," Hazel tells me. "I'm starving."

I reach a hand and drag it painfully through all the snarls on my head. Wincing at the tear-forming pain, I beg Hazel: "Give me five minutes. Please?"

She taps her foot impatiently. "Make it the fastest five minutes in the world."

I grin thankfully at her and dash over to the bathroom so I can change into day clothes and try to tame this mess on my head. Before I close the door to the bathroom, I hear Frank say: "Witch Hazel, don't take your anger out on her—"

"Frank Zhang, I am still mad at you!" I hear her yell back. Chuckling, I close the door to silence out the bickering couple.

.

.

"—so I'm like, no, of course not. What in the Underworld made you think that? And then he's like, I don't know, because he is so dysfunctional at times and I swear it's like his brain goes on cruise control whenever he's around me—"

I nod my head and continue eating my breakfast consisting of baked beans on toast. I've lost count on how long Hazel and I have been in the dining hall because it seems like she keeps talking for forever. I am pretty amazed that she finished her meal before me because I doubt she has stopped to take a breath once. The entire time she has been regaling me with stories about her and Frank, and while those stories are sweet and cute, I am trying to eat and not choke or gag at how sappy and lovey-dovey those two are.

"Hazel, you're going to give her a migraine with all of that mushy-gushy sugary stuff," a person with a deep voice and flawless British accent says as they slide onto the bench next to Hazel. Nico looks over at me and smirks when he sees what I am eating. "Beans on toast?"

"Go away," I respond promptly. "We didn't invite you over here so you could criticise my meal."

He quirks an eyebrow. "My, you're a force to be reckoned with in the morning, Santos."

"Oh, just go jump off a cloud already," I say with a roll of my eyes. "You're antagonising ways are so childish."

Nico chuckles darkly in response. "Well, well, the pot has decided to call the kettle black."

"Hazel," I whine. "Make your brother go away. He's annoying me." I bite down savagely on my British comfort food of beans-and-toast and glare rudely at Nico.

"Naw, really?" Hazel drawls sarcastically in a surprisingly realistic Louisianan accent. She opens her gorgeous toffee-coloured eyes wide and makes a fake-surprised 'o' with her lips. Then she grins and punches Nico none-too-lightly on his upper-arm. "Behave," she tells him sternly like she is reprimanding a disobedient dog. "No ruining my friendship with Cori."

He punches her back in a brotherly fashion. "I would never do such a thing."

I scoff loudly at Nico. "Your sarcasm sucks," I inform him.

Nico turns and shakes his head at me like I had just committed a major social faux pas. "Rule number one of a demigod: Never insult a child of the Big Three."

"Why?" I ask him belligerently. "What happens? I die and have to spend eternity subjected to whatever your father and you decide to torture me with?"

Hazel gasps and I immediately know that I have gone too far. The dining hall goes unnaturally still and silent. Across the table, Nico's eyes blaze coldly at me. "Never _ever_ compare me to my father," he snarls in a harsh and terrifying way. "And don't you _dare_ speak to me like that again."

It is now freezing cold in the room. I can practically feel the oxygen leave the air. My breath comes in unnatural, ragged gasps. Pretty soon I am fighting for every single breath I take. What the hell is Nico doing? Is he trying to suffocate me? I have never been so afraid of death than now. It's been awhile since I took in a lungful of oxygenated air. My skin is turning a ghastly pale and it looks sort of blue-tinged.

_Jupiter?_ I think desperately. I can practically feel my life-force ebb away. _Father, please don't let me die from suffocation. Father, give me strength to survive this. Please help me._

I think I black out for awhile. Once I come to, though, I feel a slow, tingling shock run through my body. It spreads from the inside out until I feel like a live wire, buzzing with energy. One look down at my skin and I see it crackling with electricity. Sparks jump off of me every now and then.

I look up into Nico's eyes and shake my head condescendingly at him. "Rule number one of a demigod: Never insult a child of the Big Three." And then I proceed to give him an electrocution so powerful, his limbs should start to spasm uncontrollably.

What happens isn't exactly what I had intended. Something about Nico diminishes the amount of volts I originally sent at him, but he still gets a pretty big shock. He manages to summon some sort of dark cloud around him, though, and from what I can tell that dark swirling mass surrounding him absorbs most of the electric charge.

All of the sudden, the silence is broken by a furious Reyna stomping into the dining hall. "You," she hisses at Nico and points an accusing finger at him. "Get out. _Now_. One child of Pluto is bad enough. Hazel is tolerable, but you seem to manage to create trouble wherever you are. Camp Jupiter will welcome you back when you start to act civilised. For now, get out of my sight."

"As you wish," Nico says in a perfect imitation of Wes from the movie, _The Princess Bride_. He smiles apologetically at Hazel. "Sorry, sis. Apparently my behaviour is not up to par, yet." Then, he slips into that dark cloud hovering around him until that cloud is gone too and nothing is left in its wake.

That shadow ability of his is really starting to freak me out.

Reyna whirls around and points her finger at me. "Don't get me started on you," she threatens. "I don't care that you claim your father is Jupiter or that you are on some quest assigned to you by Jupiter himself — you have no right to come barging into my camp and cause disarray left and right! You have got to learn to control yourself: I do not tolerate any sort of physical harm to my campers. There will be no more summoning lightning or electrocuting others. Am I understood?"

"Who are you to boss me around?" I say hotly.

The dining hall gasps in unison. Apparently I have just said the inconceivable. But right now my temper is running so high that I could care less about what anyone thinks about me.

Reyna's eyes burn angry holes in my skin. Not literally, of course. Well, you never know in a place like this. But anyways. She is undeniably full of hatred towards me right now. I bet that if she had my storm-brewing ability, she would create some sort of tornado to blow me away out of her sight and out of her mind.

I am suddenly thankful that she has no sort of ability like mine whatsoever.

"No. More. Electrocuting. Am I clear?" Reyna bites out the words.

Cheekily, I respond: "Crystal."

Reyna just gnashes her teeth together and gives me her own signature death glare which is not nearly as potent as Hazel's. So of course, I remain unaffected under her flinty gaze. She sniffs haughtily and turns on her heel to exit out of the dining hall.

As soon as she leaves, Hazel verbally pounces on me.

"Cori! What were you thinking? Mouthing off to Reyna is, like, the dumbest thing you could have done here at Camp Jupiter. And what was up with you provoking Nico? Don't you know he's like a firecracker waiting to explode? Gods, Cori, he could've easily killed you! You know he is that powerful, and with enough incentive, there's nothing stopping him when he puts his mind to it. You should learn to watch your tongue," Hazel says, not stopping once to take a breath.

"Why would I do that? I'll only look like some mental bint," I respond back. I do what Hazel tells me anyways and go cross-eyed as I stick my tongue out to inspect it.

"Gods, Cori, I didn't mean it literally," Hazel huffs exasperatedly.

"Oh," I say. "Well, then." I blink a couple of times and shake my head. "I guess I still don't understand American humour."

Hazel gives me a strange look and sighs loudly once more. She completely redirects the conversation away from my social faux pas, though. Bless her heart for taking such pity on me. "Well, I guess our leisurely morning is now over. Let's go back to the Fifth Cohort's cabin and get ready for today's courses."

I shrug in agreement and stand up. "Sounds good to me. But, er, what do you mean by this Fifth Cohort?"

"Oh, yeah," Hazel says to me off-handily. She swings her long legs over the wooden bench and makes her way across the dining hall. She is heading in the general direction of the building where we were this morning. "Yesterday, while you were passed out, the camp unanimously elected you to be placed in the Fifth Cohort. I believe I told you a little about the cohorts, right? Well, anyways, please don't take any offense on what I am about to say next, but you were kind of unwanted by the others. I mean, you easily intimidate others with your temper and electrocuting powers and the fact that you keep claiming Jupiter as your father. So, like, the Fifth Cohort is referred to as the reject cabin of Camp Jupiter, but in all honesty, I think it is the best cohort to be in. Our leaders, Gwen and Dakota, are pretty relaxed with the rules. You've met Dakota already, right? He's the one with the ever-present red Kool-Aid stain around his mouth. He's kinda hard to miss."

My eyes widen at Hazel's rambling overload. I have never heard someone say so much in a short amount of time. I stare at her for a few seconds as my brain sluggishly tries to makes sense out of all that she has just said. Suddenly, everything clicks. "Ah," I respond, with a nod. "So basically, the Fifth Cohort is my new home. Correct?"

"Correct," Hazel says, all relieved that I finally grasp the workings of a cohort. "The Fifth Cohort is all about loyalty, trust, and friendship — something you won't find in the other cohorts. The rest of camp focuses on discipline, strategy, and strength, which is fine and all, but it can only get you so far in the real world, you know?"

"Er, yeah," I respond because I really don't know what else I should say. "So...who else is part of the Fifth?"

Hazel sticks out her lower lip as she contemplates my question. "Hmm. Well, me, you, Frank, Percy, and Dakota, of course. Then there is Dakota's co-centurion, Dakota. She's nice but, um, yeah. Just don't mention death when you're around her. And you'll be getting an official introduction to the camp now that you are not unconscious anymore. What was up with that anyways?"

I offer her my only possible theory. "You know how I am abnormally clumsy on flat ground? You told me that it's because I am the daughter of Jupiter and I don't do well in Pluto's domain. Same thing happens whenever I externally touch water—especially saltwater. It's like Neptune is trying to fry me with an electrocution or something. It is my biggest weakness, and I would really appreciate it if you would keep it quiet."

She smiles back. "So it's your Achilles heel, huh? That is not something to be ashamed of."

I shrug. "Sure. But still, if word got around, I have a feeling that some people here would exploit it against me."

"Yeah, probably," Hazel agrees. "Like I said before, people here are really into the whole power thing. Weakness and flaws aren't really acceptable at Camp Jupiter."

I grimace. "No one is perfect, though. How can you guys live like that?"

"It's really simple. You'll be living our lifestyle soon enough, anyways." We are at the main entrance to the Fifth Cohort now. Hazel glances over at me and looks like she wants to say something important. "Um, you can stay here for about an hour and relax before we formulate a schedule of training for you. I want to go to Pluto's shrine and catch my brother before he takes off and tell him happy birthday."

I stare at her as if she has grown two heads. "It's di Angelo's birthday?"

She nods slowly, not understanding my reaction.

I groan and mentally curse myself. I am such an ass for our argument at breakfast, then. I know that even though it is his birthday, my negative feelings towards Nico haven't changed, but still, I said some really awful things. "Gods, Hazel. I am such a mental bint. Who the hail gets someone banished on their birthday? Fucking worst birthday present, in my opinion."

Hazel laughs. "Nico doesn't like it here anyways. Think of it as a blessing in disguise."

"Yeah, well, whatever. I'm coming with you to Pluto's shrine. I guess I have to apologise to him now." I kick a pebble on the ground and send it skittering a few couple metres away. "Bloody hell. I loathe apologising."

She shakes her head at me, still laughing. "You and Nico are _so_ alike. You two would be lethal together if ya'll weren't so adverse to each other's presence."

I shudder. "Please do not say something like that ever again, Hazel," I practically beg.

"Yeah, yeah," she snorts. "C'mon. Let's go find the birthday boy and send him our apologies and happy wishes."


	6. Return

**Author's Note: I am currently studying for my PSAT and SAT tests, so you'll be reading a bunch of words no normal human uses in regular day-to-day conversation. If you are confused about the definitions to the SAT vocabulary words I will be sprinkling into this story, whip out your dictionary and learn some new words that you will never use again when talking to the fellow common homeo sapiens.**

**Disclaimer: Eye deeoh enohtee ohdoubleuen teeaychee peeeeareseewhy jayayseekayesohen seeaychayareayteeeearees. Did you understand that? Try saying it out loud. That should help. And if it doesn't...well, try writing down what you hear yourself saying. But this chapter isn't centred around the disclaimer, so if you don't mind, I am going to post chapter six and let you figure out the disclaimer some other time.**

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**Train~ "Since the return from..."  
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Chapter Six: Return

**_Camp Jupiter — Shrine of Pluto  
Sunday July 21  
10.39 AM_**

"Happy birthday!" Hazel calls out as she practically tackles Nico to the ground.

"Hey, sis," he grins. "Yeah, the big fifteen. Whoop-de-doo."

I take a step back, not wanting to intrude on their sibling moment. Watching the two smile and tease each other makes me wish I had a sibling to mess around with.

I look around at where we are. The shrine to Pluto is just an ample supply of glittery bones stacked hap-hazardously into something that resembles a pile. It's actually kind of sad. I never realised how serious Hazel was being when she kept saying that her family were social outcasts at Camp Jupiter. Since her father is one of The Big Three, I would have thought that he would be as honoured as my father. This pitiful pile of bones doesn't seem to fit the image of the all-powerful and commanding god I imagine Pluto to be.

"So how are you going to spend the day? Turning fifteen only comes once in a life time," Hazel states excitedly. I get the feeling that she is more thrilled about Nico's birthday than he is.

He lets out a low humourless laugh and gently pushes her off of him so he can stand up again. "Calm down, sis," he chuckles with a small smile. "You don't need to make this into a life-changing event."

Hazel pouts. "But—but, Nico, you're _fifteen_. Do you know how much I would give to be that old right now?"

Immediately his face softens. "I'm sorry. I'll, er, smile like I care about today for your sake, alright?"

She rolls her eyes. "You are utterly hopeless. And you still have not answered my question about what your plans are for today."

"I've gotten kicked out of Camp Jupiter—isn't that enough for one day?" he smirks.

"About that," I interrupt. "I am terribly sorry about that. I didn't mean for that to happen—" I shut up as soon as Nico jerks his head up and glares over at me.

It is like what happened at breakfast: suddenly I feel like I am suffocating and the life and energy is being drained out of me. This time I have a better idea on how to handle the situation, but it is still difficult to fight off Nico's power to ebb away my life force. I manage to resist Nico's assault without help from my father this time around, but still, it is a close call.

"Would you stop trying to kill me!" I explode as I break hold from his creepy mental powers that can suffocate me. It's like he is Darth Vader using The Force on me. Definitely not normal.

Hazel snaps her fingers in front of Nico's eyes, a shocked expression on her face. "Nico di Angelo!" she exclaims. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself! Get a hold of your temper or else I'll have father do it for you!"

That sobers him up quickly. Nico just curls his lip at me and stares impassively at Hazel. "Don't tell me what to do," he says firmly.

She rolls her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, like I've never heard _that_ before." Hazel huffs at her brother. "We came over to wish you a happy birthday, and Cori wanted to apologise to you about her behaviour at breakfast, but now it seems to be that _you_ are the one who needs to apologise."

Nico looks down to the ground impatiently. "Sorry, not sorry. There, is that to your liking, Hazel?"

"What the hell was that?!" Hazel exclaims. "You call that an apology?"

His dark eyes flash dangerously. "I said sorry! What else do you want me to say?"

She scoffs back at him. "What a load of bull! You said quote-sorry-not-sorry-end-quote! Apology my ass!" Hazel threw her hands up in the air in defeat. "You know, I try to understand you, Nico, but sometimes you are way too obtuse."

"Give me a break!" he yells back at her. His lethal gaze cuts over to me. "And you...don't try to be the innocent one, Santos. I knew you were trouble when you walked in!"

Well that insult did wonders to my temper. I stalk over to the birthday boy and get up in his face as best as I can, considering our extreme height differences.

"You should be nice to your sister," I bite out, eyeing him with complete disdain.

"You should mind your own business," he retorts, dark eyes blazing with an uncontrollable inferno lighting them.

I tilt my head to the side, studying him. I might be projecting a calm and collected exterior but on the inside there is so, so much hate for this jerk. "Don't tell me what to do," I say with an arched eyebrow as I repeat his earlier words.

"Same goes for you."

I smile humourlessly. If I had his ability to asphyxiate others, he would've been six feet under by now. "You know, I would love to stay and argue with you but I have better things to do with my time. There's a storm coming, di Angelo. If you know what's best for you, you might consider staying the hell away from me."

He smirks in return. "And you would do well to be apprehensive of the dark from now on."

I shake my head as I take a step back. "I'll make sure to keep my night-light plugged in," I say sarcastically. Once I reach Hazel, who has been following our conversation with wide eyes, I link an arm through hers and pull her away from Pluto's shrine. "If you ever try to steal the air out of my lungs one more time, di Angelo, I just might have to accidentally-on-purpose hit you with lightning. Consider yourself warned." Then I turn away from the son of Pluto, still seething with loathing on the inside. Who knew someone could be so much of a weather vane in the butt?

Hazel and I head back to our cabin in silence. So much for apologising and wishing him a happy birthday. Right now, I could care less if all his wishes came true. One of them would probably be to have me sent down to the Underworld.

"So," Hazel begins apprehensively once we reach the door to the Fifth Cohort's barracks. "That went well."

"Better than I expected," I reply honestly.

Hazel studies my face for a moment. "Maybe you and Nico should, um, stop antagonising each other." She stops looking at me and picks at her fingernails while she says: "It causes a lot of unneeded tension in the camp, you know."

I sigh. "Easier said than done. He's just one of _those_ people."

She gives me a questioning glance in response. "Huh?"

I bite my lip as I contemplate the best way to explain to her what I mean. "di Angelo...he just bothers me. Like, I don't even know. It must be his face. I mean, who smirks all the time? Honestly. And that hair?" I roll my eyes at Hazel. "Come on. Someone should tell him that we're not in the '40s. And let me tell you, he was rude to me first. Not the other way around. Well, he was nice in the forest and all but that was before I actually knew who he was." I huff. "I can't really explain it. Everything he does and his presence and the way he looks...it really, _really_ aggravates me. But I will try to tone it down a bit. Just don't expect any miracles or anything."

She laughs. "Oh my gods, Cori!" Hazel giggles and quotes: "'It must be his face'!?" She shakes her head, still laughing, but sobering up slightly. "I appreciate that you're going to try to stop being so bitter towards him." She then lowers her voice a bit. "If you hadn't noticed, my brother isn't much of a social butterfly. And I think you bother him more than anyone else he's met, hence the negativity and hate vibes you're getting from him. And, um, Cori? Nico _is_ from the 1940's."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," I say, totally confused now. "What do you mean he's from the '40s? He just turned fifteen today."

Hazel opens the door and steps inside, gesturing for me to do the same. Daylight seeps in through the barrack, allowing me to see where I had woken up this morning. The first level of the building is a common area. A kitchenette and dining table are on the far side of the open floor plan. In the middle is a ring of Italian leather couches that face a flat-screen plasma telly. Other than that, the place has absolutely no cohesive theme for its decoration. There's a corner dedicated for Frank's meditation needs (plush Chinese rugs and incense and silk pillows and monk music). Muddy riding boots line the wall closest to the door we entered from. I look through the floor-to-ceiling window on the other side of the room and spy a pool, most likely saltwater to accommodate Percy. Red Kool-Aid bottles line the kitchen counters like a collection of trophies. Weapons of all sorts hang from the walls instead of paintings. Sweeping arches indicate doorways and the stone floor lends a medieval feel to the place. All in all, the barrack feels kind of old but timeless in a modern way, if that makes any sort of sense.

"I need to catch you up on the background of the people here, but I didn't want to do that in the open where anyone could overhear," Hazel explains as to why we're inside the barrack.

She takes my hand and leads me up a stairwell to the right of the main entrance of the building. I've seen that the ground level is the common area. As we rush up stairs upon stairs, I catch brief glimpses and snapshots of the first and second levels through their respective doors. The first level looks like a playground for a gymnasium junkie. Exercise machines and weights are strategically placed everywhere in the room behind the glass automatic sliding door. Mirrors and a ballet barre line the left side of the room. Yoga mats occupy the opposite corner. This place looks like my idea of a torture chamber. Sure, I exercise and run 5Ks and 10Ks competitively but I absolutely loathe the weight-lifting and strength-building part of my training. There is no way I am setting foot into this gymnasium willingly.

Thankfully, we don't linger on the first level for very long. On our way up, I ask Hazel how the weight of the machinery does not make the floor collapse like I thought it would. She replies something about all the exercise machines being a special collaboration between Mars and Vulcan and that the machines are gifted with the power to be effective with no environmental side effects. All of this is going completely over my head so I ask no more questions on the matter. I'll just have to accept Hazel's word as the truth and believe that the machines won't make the floor cave in any second.

On the second level of the Fifth Cohort barrack, I spy a corridor with a glass ceiling filled with brightly coloured fish and vibrant sea plants. As my eyes travel over the entire passageway, I realise that the whole corridor is actually an aquarium. A sandy strip marks the walkway down to some room disappearing through one of the glass tank walls. I stare open-jawed as a stingray drifts over to my side, so close that if the glass did not separate us, its tail would be grazing my side.

"Hazel...?" I ask questioningly.

She barely pauses, looking around the aquarium room for a brief second before going back to ascending the many, many steps of this labyrinthine stairwell. "Oh, that is Percy's floor."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Each floor level of the barrack morphs to accommodate the designated inhabitant of the room. The ground floor is co-habited by all the Fifth Cohort so it is a lounge room. The first floor is to accommodate all our exercising needs even though we use the outdoor camp facilities more. The second level is Percy's which is why it is encased in a saltwater aquarium. His outdoor balcony has a waterslide and a diving board that leads straight to the saltwater pool constructed out back that was specially created for him when he joined our cohort. Me and Nico share the third level which is where we are going."

Hazel abruptly stops on the stairs and faces towards the shadows hugging the wall to my right. She does some weird hand motion thing that I could not replicate if anyone asked me to. Suddenly the shadowy wall transforms into a door right before my eyes. She steps into the darkness and gestures for me to do the same. Naturally, I am hesitant, but already I trust Hazel with my life. I follow her inside.

The third level is nothing at all what I expected it to look like considering two children of Pluto inhabit the place. Sure, the place is overall dark and richly decorated in warm, luxurious colours of black, grey, and burgundy, which seems fitting for Hazel's and Nico's preference for the shadows. The interior design mainly consists of dim lights, dark teak woods, basic furniture, and a huge flat screen telly in the centre of the floor plan. What is surprising, however, is the garden by the single window across the room that is bathed in pure golden sunlight. Perhaps Hazel took up the hobby from her step-mum, Proserpina. The only thing that hints of Pluto's influence is the fireplace tucked away into the far left corner. I can see that it does not burn on logs or petrol and that the flames rise up from an impossible depth—the Underworld, most likely.

Hazel flops onto one of the black Italian leather couches and motions for me to replicate her action. I do not vacillate. As soon as I make myself comfortable and burrow myself into the buttery, warm softness of the couch, Hazel continues on with her tour of the Fifth Cohort barrack.

"So yeah, this is mine and Nico's floor. Above us on the fourth level is where our lead centurions, Dakota and Gwen, live. Dakota, like I said before, is the son of Bacchus and is pretty obsessed with Kool-Aid. Gwen is wonderful and sweet and you can rely on her for anything. And she kicks butt at the war games. Frank's on the fifth floor. He has all his Buddha and incense and yoga stuff up there. It's a nice place to chill, but you know, the smell really gets on our cohort's nerves sometimes so we do not mind if you leave the windows open to air the building out or something. Jason Grace, the other praetor of Camp Jupiter who happened to go missing about the same time Percy joined our camp, used to live on the top floor. It's a mountain of stairs to get all the way up to the sixth floor, but I'm sure your half-brother left a secret passageway to get up there. He was into the whole hidden short-cut thing before he vanished."

Once again, Hazel has gone into information over-load. I try to process everything that she has said as best and quickly as I can. I knit my eyebrows together when I process the fact that stood out to me the most.

"I have a brother?"

Hazel smiles. "Yeah. Jason Grace. Everyone, like, hero-worships him here at Camp Jupiter. He has a pretty big legacy. I think he fought the Titans and rescued imperial gold weapons from Fort Sumter in Charleston. I'm pretty sure he did even more but I wasn't here that long before he went missing."

My jaw is practically down to the floor by now. "And how old is he?"

"Fifteen or sixteen, I think? I think his birthday is sometime soon but I don't know if it already passed or not."

"I have a brother," I repeat, this time in wonder. "Wait...he's missing?"

She nods. "Yeah. It's a big mystery for everyone here. And it really is odd how Percy shows up, like, not even a day after Jason went missing."

And now I'm confused again. "Hold that thought. I am so very puzzled right now. I still have no idea how this whole Roman thing works, let alone all the workings of Camp Jupiter. And now you tell me I have a brother and that Percy is part of some big mystery and he's from Camp Half-Blood for Greeks. Not to mention all the deities and demigods have all these weird quirks...could you perhaps hand me a little brochure or something with everybody's stats on them so I could at least try to follow along with this soap-opera story you're telling?" I joke to Hazel.

She grins back, completely understanding my dilemma. "Okay," she giggles. "I'll try to explain as best as I can." Hazel glances over at me. "Can I presume that you know basic Roman mythology?"

"To some extent," I admit. "I'll let you know if I've never heard the legend before."

"Okay, so let's start with The Big Three children. The Big Three are Jupiter, Pluto, and Neptune. They had this oath to never have any more children since their offspring were unnaturally strong and destructive considering that they were only demigods. Did you know that the American Civil War happened because of an argument between children of the Big Three? Yeah, so, they're destructive as I have said before. Anyways, the three gods obviously have broken their oath since you, me, Percy, Jason, and Nico exist right now. I think Percy also mentioned you have a sister, Thalia Grace, who is Jason's actual sister although she goes to the Greek camp—"

I interrupt. "Wait. How can the gods have so many kids who are close in age?" I get this sour feeling in the pit of my stomach once I realise my mum isn't the only woman Jupiter has fallen in love with. Now that I think about it, in mythology isn't Jupiter some womanising cheater?

"We're not as close in age as you think," Hazel says cryptically. "You see, Neptune was the first to claim his child. According to Percy, there was this whole ordeal about Zeus' stolen master bolt a few years ago. After that, Jupiter claimed Thalia as his daughter who had been preserved in a tree for a couple odd years to evade a monster attack. Then, Percy and Thalia went on a mission to rescue a pair of demigods who just so happened to be Nico and his sister Bianca di Angelo. Bianca became a Greek Hunter, one of those who follow the goddess Artemis, but she was killed on a quest with Percy and Nico. Nico was in the Underworld trying to bring his sister back to life when he found me, his other sister. Bianca had already chosen to be reborn so he brought me back into the world of the living. I'm originally from the 40s. Nico and Bianca are too; Pluto just had them locked up in an anti-aging casino resort in hopes that they were the children a prophecy specified for except it turned out that Percy was the one the prophecy was about. Jason is Thalia's little brother, and I think you and him are the same age, right?"

"Right," I respond. "Er, so no offense or anything but I'm curious as to why—"

"—I'm alive?" Hazel fills in for me. She shrugs. "You'll have to ask Nico about that. Not that I am complaining that I'm alive or anything. And I am most assuredly not dead or a ghost right now."

"Oh," I say. "Well, that's good."

She peers at me enquiringly. "Are you afraid of death, Cori?"

I shiver. "Just a little," I admit. "But it's nice to know that there is a place where the soul goes after you die. That erases all my fears that I will become nothing when I die." I try not to notice that Hazel bites her lip to refrain herself from saying anything in response.

Suddenly Nico steps out of the flames in the fireplace, completely unscathed. What is he, a wizard from Harry Potter travelling by Floo Network? "Hey," he says to Hazel, completely ignoring me. "I hope I'm not interrupting—" I noticed that he didn't look too embarrassed if he were interrupting, "—but Dakota and Gwen want you down in the common area to choose Santos's schedule. Like, right now."

"Hey, di Angelo," I say sweetly, going out of my way to sound pleasant since he all but ignored me. "Thanks for telling us. Would you mind letting them know that we'll be down in a second?"

His jaw clenches. "I'm not Hermes, Santos," he says tightly as he glares at some point behind my head.

I roll my eyes. "I know _that_. Nobody in their right mind would confuse you with a god of any sort."

Nico's eyes snap over to meet mine. Some sort of angry emotion blazes in his eyes before calming down into something unidentifiable. "I know I'm the god of awesome. Too bad you can't realise that—"

I snort. "Awesomely annoying," I retort. A beat too late I realise that Nico had been teasing me. Not insulting but _teasing_.

Immediately he shifts back from being humorous to hostile. "I should go," he says curtly. "Don't want to offend thy Royal Pain-in-the-Ass with my awesome presence much longer." He steps back into the flames and vanishes.

Over on the other couch, Hazel face-palms herself in exasperation. "Oh my gods, Cori! Are you oblivious? He was trying to make amends or something and you just shot him down! Ugh, I knew getting the two of you to play nice would be hard but I didn't think it would be this excruciating!"

I cower. "Er, sorry?" I offer meekly. In my defence, I thought Nico had been insulting me when he was, in fact, joking around. It's not my fault that I cannot seem to recognise that he can be an all-right guy once in a blue moon.

Hazel just huffs and stands up. "Too late for that. Let's just forget about this and go down to make up your schedule." She walks on over to the main entrance. Oh, thank Jupiter that we don't have to travel through the fireplace to go down to the ground floor. Getting burned like a marshmallow isn't really something I want to do today.

I quickly get up and follow Hazel. I have this feeling that perhaps I do not want to get on her bad side again in the same hour. She does that weird shadow-brick-pattern thing and then we are out on the main stairwell. For some reason, going down all these stairs takes much less time than going up. Huh. Imagine that.

When we enter the common area on the ground level, everyone from the Fifth Cohort is present. Including Nico.

"Cori!" Out of the blue, I am enveloped in sunshine, an ocean breeze, and sunscreen. One guess as to who is hugging me right now.

"Percy!" I yell back with equal enthusiasm. I squeeze his waist since there is absolutely no way my arms will reach around his neck. He has gotten so much taller than his pre-teen self.

"You're deciding your schedule, right?" he asks. Percy does not wait for an answer before continuing on. "Great! Be prepared to eat my bubbles in sword fighting!"

I roll my eyes at his competitive streak. "FYI, sponge head, I have a dagger not a sword."

He snorts and mumbles something about my weapon being proportional to my size. I narrow my eyes at him but all he does is smile innocently back. Just because he is no longer the size of a sardine, he thinks it is alright for him to poke fun at us other small sardines. Jerk.

Before an argument can start between Percy and me, Hazel directs me over to the lead centurions, Dakota and Gwen, who are sitting at a long conference table near the kitchenette. I take a seat next to Gwen and wait patiently for this whole schedule-deciding thing to begin.

"Hey, Cori," Gwen smiles in a friendly manner. "You ready to get this show on the road?"

"Er, sure," I say.

Dakota, who is sitting directly across from me, shuffles a few papers around his hands. He slid a fill-in-the-blank course registration sheet over to me. "Here. All newcomers have to take the required core classes of Roman Mythology, Latin, Theatre and Drama, Architecture, Greek Studies, History and Geography of the Roman Empire, and Speech and Debate. Also, one fighting technique class is required but two or three different technique classes are recommended to expand your potential as a soldier. It is also encouraged to take a class specialising in the gift bestowed to you by your godly parent. If you wish to sign up for more personalised and enjoyable courses, there are also a range of electives for you to take but only after you register for all your core classes. Each class lasts roughly 72 minutes. We'll let you look over that and feel free to ask any one of us for advice or questions you may have." Once his mandatory lecture is over, Dakota reaches for a Kool-Aid and takes a big mouthful from it.

I look over the sheet that Dakota has given me. "How many classes am I supposed to take a day?" This camp is starting to seem more and more like an educational school than a summertime camp.

"The average camper takes up to seven a day," Frank tells me. "There's no set requirement, but Reyna prefers for everyone to have at least 288 minutes of core classes a day. It doesn't have to be the same schedule day-to-day, and you have to coordinate the classes to correspond with your skill level, but—"

"Frank! Stop complicating everything," Hazel says with a teasing glint in her eyes. She turns to face me. "To start, just take three core classes a day. You should be fine as long as you go through each core class at least two or three times in one week. Once you pick all your core curriculum, figure out your electives. I suggest that your first fighting technique one to be a dagger-based class since that is the weapon you possess. And then, just do whatever your heart desires."

I glance at Percy and Nico who haven't said anything to me yet. "Well? What do you guys think?"

Nico immediately responds: "Transfer to Camp Half-Blood. Then you have Chiron to figure out all this crap for you."

I roll my eyes at his laziness. I then focus on Greek guy number two. "Percy?"

"Hmm. Take Theatre and Drama as your first class. It takes a lot of energy, though, but you're a morning person so you'll do fine. Mythology is fun after Theatre and then do something cool like your tech class. Then fill up the rest of your day with electives. The next day do an elective first, then Latin, Roman History, and Speech and Debate sometime after lunch. Then the next day do Greek Studies, Architecture, your daughter of Jupiter class, and then another tech class. Follow that schedule every three days and sign up for electives in all your free periods or just relax and have fun around camp. If Reyna has something special planned for the camp that she wants us to train for—an example being a gladiator competition—she'll let us know so we can plan our schedules accordingly. Camp Jupiter really is a fun place to be, Cori. I promise you'll love it here," Percy tells me.

I madly scribble down everything he just said. Once I'm done and hand it back to Dakota, I say to Percy, "I sure hope you're right. If this is some suicidal boot camp place for demigods, count me out."

The entire cohort laughs at that. "As much as Reyna and Octavian try to make it be all intense and shit, it really isn't," Dakota assures me.

"So, hey," Percy says. "What's this you're telling me that you already have a dagger?"

I shrug nonchalantly. "The big bad wolf in the forest decided to give me one on my way here to Camp Jupiter."

Hazel looks over at her brother curiously and then looks at me. "Mind if I look at it?"

Seeing no harm in that, I withdraw Shadow and place it on the table. "Don't touch the blade," I warn her. "It sucks life energy or something."

Hazel gasps and then glares accusingly at Nico. "Now why in the name of Pluto would you give Cori a weapon made of Stygian iron?"

He held his hands palms up in a sign of peace. "I meant no harm, Hazel. She was travelling alone and needed a weapon to keep her safe. Santos was scared shitless at the sight of Mrs O'Leary, for god's sake!"

"Well ex_cuse_ me for not knowing—" I begin defensively but I am immediately cut off by Hazel.

"She's not even a child of Pluto or Hades! You know the dagger won't work properly for her. And it's lethal to mortals and monsters. Do you even realise how accident-prone Cori is? You'll get her killed, Nico! And now that the metal has bonded to her, there is absolutely no way she can switch weapons. How on earth is she supposed to fight with that fifteen-inch thing? She'll be skewered before she can even get into range of her enemy! Gods, Nico, did you even _think_ before you gave her _Umbra_?"

Nico huffs at his sister. "What else did you want me to do? She was all alone in the redwood forest. And she's a child of Jupiter! There were at least four monsters waiting to pounce on her when I just so happened to show up with Mrs O'Leary. Did you want her to get turned into a tree like Thalia?"

"I don't even know how Thalia is!" Hazel yells back.

Percy quickly intervenes on their sibling argument. "Guys, guys, let's all calm down, okay? What's done is done. Cori, sheathe your dagger. And be extremely wary of it. You're another child of the Big Three and so the weapon has a greater ability to wound you. Hazel, you don't need to yell. And Nico, man, c'mon. You don't just pass out Stygian iron weapons to strangers in a forest."

Nico ignores Percy and breaks away from the group. As he heads out the main door, he looks over his shoulder and sneers: "I sure hope you're worth all this trouble, Santos, because you are ruining my life."


	7. Stay on the Moon

**Author's Note: In some sentences, 'flat' is used in the context of what Americans call an 'apartment'.  
**

**I know, I know, I swear a lot. But ya'll haven't even heard me at my worst. My mates always tell me to watch my fucking language. All of them are total hypocrites (:  
**

**Disclaimer: ****Because this is only the seventh chapter and I still have all my lovely creative juices flowing, I will come up with this elaborate, authentic, never-heard-of-before disclaimer~ I own none of the original Percy Jackson characters or plot lines.**  


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******Train~ "...her stay on the moon..."  
**

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Chapter Seven: Stay on the Moon

**_Camp Jupiter — Temple Jupiter Optimus Maximus  
Thursday July 25  
21.15 PM_**

When I was younger, I would pitch a tent out on my balcony and pretend that I could stargaze through all of the San Francisco air pollution. I would stare up at the sky through the slats of the fire escape stairs that wound for miles above me. My fantasies led me to believe that those very stairs were actually the stairway to heaven in disguise.

Now, at fifteen, I am lying on the cold, hard ground of my father's temple, and I am still trying to stargaze. However, I can actually see the night sky for once. And my gods, is it beautiful! Little pinpoints of possibility and light wink at me far away in the distance. I deeply breathe in the comforting smell of crisp and clean ozone.

"Aquila...Aries...Leo...Cassiopeia...Cetus...Draco...Capricornus...Orion...Scorpius...Perseus," I list out the names of the random constellations I can easily make out in the navy blue darkened sky. I trace each shape in my mind's eye. I identify my favourite constellation, Aquila the eagle, first. Then I also see Aries the ram, Leo the lion, Cassiopeia the beautiful queen sitting on her throne, Cetus the lethal looking sea monster, Draco the dragon, Capricornus the sea goat, Orion the Greek hunter, Scorpius the scorpion, and Perseus the hero that Percy is named after who is Greek like Percy now that I think about it.

Percy. Immediately the clarity that the stars brought me vanishes and is replaced by an uncertain fog that occurs whenever Percy's name is mentioned. I don't know why, though. Percy is easily the only person in my life who I could title as my best friend — after all, he's the only person I have known the longest and also the only person that I can trust besides my mum. But after our friendship was on hiatus for six years, I don't really know who or where he stands in my life right now. When we parted, he fell into the role of my ex-boyfriend. I literally moved across the entire country no more than a few months later, and we both knew that when that happened, we would no longer be best friends no matter how hard we tried to keep in touch. But now, he is no longer the same guy I left in Manhattan, and by default, I cannot treat him the same as I once used to.

The Percy I know now is sixteen, Greek, a son of the Big Three, and happily in love with a girlfriend who goes by the name of Annabeth. The smart-ass ego I always associated with Percy is still in place although it has been inflated two hundred times too many in my opinion. He is still charming, funny, easily distracted, and impulsive. He's Percy...but at the same time he isn't.

I sigh and shift slightly on the cold stone of my father's temple. I reach a finger up into the sky and outline the constellation of Perseus. I know I should be happy for Percy. He is at a point in his life where he knows who he is and what he needs to do in life and what is expected of him. But some nights I find myself shedding a couple tears for the two of us and our shared past and the innocence and simplicity of how it used to be between us.

Trampoline wars, water balloon fights, blue-dyed food, and camping out on our flat balconies as we listened to the Manhattan traffic... The memories flow as freely through my mind as the tears streaming down my face.

I quickly stop the tears, embarrassed by my girly display of emotion even though no one is here to see me cry. I wipe my eyes on my T-shirt sleeves and lay my head tiredly back onto the temple floor. The stars blink back at me innocently. I watch the sky for hours, tracking the slow, gradual shift of the constellations from one side of the sky to the other.

The Canes Venatici, the constellation in the shape of hunting dogs, catches my eye as it makes its journey across the dark sky. The canine shape reminds me of Percy's hellhound, Mrs O'Leary, which in turn reminds me of her baby sitter that day.

Nico di Angelo.

All of the sudden, the wrath and hatred from every single moment that I have been graced with his unwanted presence come crashing down upon me once more. Like I said to Hazel, I have absolutely no idea what it is about him that makes me hate him so much. His personality sucks, but for some strange reason he is like that only to me. I've seen the way he and Hazel interact. They're siblings, so of course they fight, but all the other times he is perfectly cordial and perhaps even polite to her and pretty much everyone else. Granted, he is a sarcastic asshole (I am too, so call me a hypocrite and whatnot). But, as soon as I enter the picture, meteors hit the atmosphere and he is down-right unbearable.

Gods, I never thought there would ever be a person in the world that could compete with Percy on the title for most insufferable. Nico is just so demanding, argumentative, and overbearing. He acts like the sun and moon rise in the sky just for him or something ridiculous like that. And how the hail does he manage to darken the sky when his realm is technically the earth and underneath the ground? My weather-changing powers can't do shit whenever he interferes with his son of Pluto shadow-calling-darkness thing or whatever. And the fact that I trip over my left two feet when I walk on the ground and manage to embarrass myself with my clumsiness 24/7? So not fair if you factor in that he isn't afraid of heights or has a phobia of flying or some weakness relating to the sky.

But hot damn, does he have some good Italian genes! And that authentic British accent of his is so perfect and enchanting that it easily distracts me from whatever he's saying. Or more like arguing. I know for sure that Nico never 'just talks' when he is speaking to me. It's always got to be "blahblahblah, I'm right and you're wrong, blahblahblah, let me choke you with The Force, blahblah what is your problem?!".

The predictability of our conversations really does get tiring after awhile.

It has been four days since I picked out my camp schedule and Nico stormed out of the Fifth Cohort's barrack. Technically he is in exile, but Reyna has been turning a blind eye at his continuous presence at Camp Jupiter. I don't think she has the heart to completely abandon him into the real world, so for now he is ignored by pretty much everyone at Camp Jupiter. In all honesty, he's just being treated the same way he has always been.

I've completely immersed myself into camp life in the few days that I have been here. It might not be boot camp but it certainly is not all fun and games. Romans are serious about what they do and they don't half-ass anything. I am either studying battle tactics or Roman history, brushing up on my Latin, doing chores, or participating in mock battles as part of my physical training. Needless to say, Camp Jupiter is overwhelming and exhausting. But I have to admit, the satisfaction I feel after I master a skill makes the effort worth it.

Hazel is quickly turning out to be my best friend. She is funny and smart and sweet. She is completely selfless and has a heart of gold. The best thing, though, is that she not only understands my sarcasm but she possesses the same dry humour too. Already we have some pretty spectacular inside-jokes that set us off into fits of giggles while everyone else looks at us strangely.

Her boyfriend, Frank, is tolerable. He is still wary of me, but I guess that is to be expected since I have yet to prove myself to these Romans. I would be wary of a stranger too. He's nice enough, though, and I know his mentality is that if Hazel trusts me, he can as well to some extent.

Percy, as I have already mentioned, is more or less a stranger. We still have that connection or bond or whatever you want to call it from when we were younger, but so much has changed since the days when we were little. I want to go back to how things originally were between us, but our used-to-be-slightly-romantic relationship and once-severe dependence on the other makes it hard to go back in time to when things were simpler. Truly, I don't think we will ever be able to recover the special link that we once had.

Absent-mindedly, I go back to tracing the constellations. _Columba...Cygnus...Grus_. For some reason, all the bird constellations are flying out at me. The dove, swan, and crane have always looked peaceful and serene to me. I smile as I re-trace my favourite one, Aquila the eagle. The familiar shape comforts me and makes me feel safe once I identify it in the big, vast night sky.

Jupiter's temple is pretty impressive in the dark. In the light of day it is rather stunning, but at night hidden in the shadows it is indescribable. The marble floor is cool underfoot. Mosaic tiles and golden Latin inscriptions etched into the floor tickle the pads of my feet. Overhead, the gold domed ceiling is now bleached silver in the moonlight. A soft breeze passes through the entire temple from time to time to keep the air steadily circulating.

I love it here in my father's temple. Grandiose decorations and exaggerated markings of power and authority aside, this place is pretty much the only place that feels closest to home here at Camp Jupiter.

Speaking of home, I wonder how Mum is doing. I miss her so much. I still am not convinced that Camp Jupiter is worth all the trouble and emotional distress that I have gone through so far. Meeting Hazel is probably the highlight of my stay. And reuniting with Percy was pretty unexpected and weird but not horribly awkward. I'm glad I got to see him after all these years. But Reyna and Octavian obviously do not approve of my presence. Neither does Nico.

Nico. Again, my thoughts are pulled towards the subject of him.

He is such a mystery. I want to like him, I really do, but he makes it so hard. Everything about him is aggravating and sets me on edge. All it takes is one condescending look or that annoying smirk from him and then I want to hurl a lightning bolt at his face.

Hypothetically, if we were in some alternate universe and the circumstances were completely different, I might want to befriend Nico. He is pretty easy on the eyes, and judging from the way Hazel interacts with him, whether it is in anger stemmed from concern of playful sibling teasing, there must be a heart somewhere hidden inside that sarcastic interior of him. There is no doubt that he is loyal to those he trusts and who trust him back. And the fact that he doesn't take centaur-shit from Reyna is pretty impressive and makes him to some extent a bit more respectable in my eyes.

But I don't live in that alternate universe. I live in a place where the reality is that Nico is an ass and hates my guts for some strange reason. I honestly don't know why. He was pretty nice back in the forest before I came to Camp Jupiter. I'm pretty sure the flirting that went on between us wasn't a mistake or a figment of my imagination. He even gave me a dagger to protect myself since I was completely weapon-less. Sure, the dagger is crazy powerful and I am the clumsiest person in the world and will most likely hurt myself on accident before I can hurt my opponent, but the thought behind it is what counts the most.

Wait. What?

I bolt up straight. Nico gave me a dagger that only he could use. Right? Oh, gods, my head hurts from trying to figure this all out. He was being nice and gave me a dagger to protect myself. But from another perspective it could be argued that he gave me a cursed dagger that he knew could easily kill me if it wasn't used properly.

So which is it? Was he being nice or not? And did he even know the full potential of his weapon?

Four days ago, Hazel said that my dagger is made of Stygian iron that is lethal to mortals and monsters. Two days ago in my weaponry class, I learned that Celestial bronze, the stuff Percy and other Greeks use, is dangerous only to mortals. Imperial gold, the metal Romans use, is dangerous only to mortals as well. Of course out of the three metals available, I, the clumsiest person alive, would be bonded to the most hazardous one of them. I thought it was pretty ridiculous to even put me in possession of a weapon (although it did make sense for me to have one out in the woods of California) and then to learn that it sucks out life force just like Nico's creepy choking powers? That seriously cracked me up.

But Stygian iron is supposed to be exclusive to Pluto only. The fact that Nico, the heir and son to Pluto, willingly gave a weapon derived of the precious metal to another child of The Big Three speaks volumes. Reyna, Nico, and Percy are still holding their breaths as they wait anxiously for the repercussions of Nico's rash action.

Actually, I think Reyna is in a continuous state of anxiety from my unexpected arrival at Camp Jupiter, Nico's presence, the crazy drama we've managed to stir up in our short time here, Percy's and my history, Octavian's political ambition, the prophecy that is supposedly in place, the inevitable meeting with the Greeks that Percy still hasn't told me the full details about (note to self: get him to spill on that sometime soon), and the pressure of running Camp Jupiter basically all by herself. I wonder how she manages to juggle it all.

I stare off into the night, not seeing the beautiful pinpricks of starlight anymore. Why did I ever want to know my father again? All he has managed to do so far is completely turn my life upside down. I even lived for a month with a pack of wolves all because of Jupiter! And what does he want me to do here at Camp Jupiter? I know I am supposed to be training and preparing myself to take on any stupid monsters who want to mess with me but I know that isn't Jupiter's only reasoning for me to be here. And what was he talking about with all that fate-fulfilling destiny stuff? Isn't that stuff reserved only for prophecies?

I sigh and stare up at the once-darkened sky that is now slowly lightening up to a dusky rose as the sun makes its buttery-yellow presence known. The stars wave goodbye to me before they twinkle their last light and sink silently beneath the horizon. If only I could be like a mere mortal and fly out into outer space so I could disappear and hide among the stars for a couple of years. Life would be so much more tolerable, then.

Yes, I would like to fly out in a rocket similar to the _Apollo 11_ and stay on the moon preferably for half a decade or so, and forget all the complications that have occurred since I met my father and came to Camp Jupiter. That sounds exactly like my cup of tea.

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**Author's Notes: As always, REVIEW please.  
**

******Please don't hate me. I promise that Cori and Nico will kiss and make up. But keep in mind that this is a 45 chapter story. There is no way I will make them fall in love within the first six chapters because what type of plot line would I have left to write? And you have to admit that Cori and Nico have great chemistry. Even if the sparks flying are because of Cori's emotional outbursts and the fact that she keeps creating storm clouds every time she gets mad at Nico.  
**


	8. Listens like Spring, Talks like June

**Author's Note: So I know I haven't done a brilliant job of creating a mental image of Cori or Nico in your mind (sorry that I've been all dialogue and no details lately) but I do have pictures of how I picture them. Visit my Tumblr account {londonprincessa . tumblr . com} if you want to see images that go along with this story. Search under the link 'invisible.' for specific tags on the images.  
For similar celebrity look-alikes of Cori, think Keira Knightley (_Pirates of the Caribbean) _or Natalie Portman _(__Black Swan,__ Thor)_. For similar celebrity look-alikes of Nico, think Tom Daley (_10m platform diving, bronze medalist Olympics 2012_) and Andrew Garfield _(The Amazing Spider-man, The Social Network_).**

**Anyways, back to the story.  
**

**Disclaimer: You've read it so many times on fanfiction that I probably don't have to write it anymore. Too bad. I still will. Just not today.  
**

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**Train~ "She listens like spring and she talks like June, hey, hey..."**

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Chapter Eight: Listens like Spring, Talks like June

**_Camp Jupiter — Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus  
Friday July 26  
3.58 AM_**

"Heeeyyyyy," a voice seems to draw out the word endlessly. My sleep-addled mind cannot comprehend with what this person is trying to say beyond a few simple words like 'hey' and 'morning'.

Wait, morning?

Immediately I shoot up like a bolt of lightning and shift into a defensive crouch. I take in my surroundings with adrenaline-fuelled alertness. My eyes gradually shift the darkness into focus. It is then that I realise that I must have fallen asleep in my father's temple — that creepy statue of Jupiter in his ridiculously big purple toga over in the far corner is still staring accusingly at me.I whirl around; suddenly I am afraid on finding out as to whom the voice belongs to. My sleepy brain seems to have forgotten the blaring fact that I am weapon-less.

"It's only me," the voice says. My eyelids flutter shut and instantaneously I am back in the redwood forest of Northern California. I am strangely comforted by this memory. But then I remember who this voice belongs to.

My eyes snap open and I feel a sneer mar my face. I find myself glaring straight into the eyes of Nico di Angelo. "What are you doing here?" I snap at him. "This isn't your temple. Get out!" I lunge forward and make as if to smack him or punch him or afflict physical harm to his body.

He dodges me neatly and tries to reason with me. "Hey, calm down, Santos."

Scowling, I shoot him a contemptuous glare and keep my body tense. "I hate you," I spit out at him with as much acid as I can muster.

Nico chuckles. "For a minute there, Santos, you sounded exactly like Juno."

I curl my lip at the mention of my father's legal wife. She looks like a stupid cow. No wonder she made the cow her symbol. It also explains as to why she is so fond of the creature.

"I don't want to talk to you," I inform him curtly. "And don't let me ever hear you say anything about me and Juno in the same sentence again," I threaten Nico in my scariest voice.

He cocks an eyebrow but doesn't reply. However, some thoughtful goddess from high above artfully drops a steaming brown pile of fresh cow crap onto the floor next to me. I gag from the smell and quickly run to the other side of the temple to get away from her nasty cow shit.

"Thanks, Juno!" I snark at the goddess who is responsible for this lovely cow pie. I lift my face towards the heavens and call out: "And I bet my father appreciates the offering you left him in his temple!"

When I blink, the brown pile of nastiness has vanished. Conversely, Juno didn't care to dissipate the over-powering and strong scent of manure. I cough and lift my shirt sleeve to my nose in a vain attempt to filter the intense smell.

"Well, you and Juno seem to have a lovely relationship," Nico remarks dryly, his nose wrinkled at the still-lingering odour of manure.

I hiss in warning to him. His dim-witted brain seems to have already forgotten my threat from earlier. Nico pays no mind to me, though, and looks around the sanctuary.

"Some temple, huh?" he says. He laughs when he sees that extravagantly huge and creepy statue of my father in the corner. "Nice to know that Jupiter has a personality complex."

I scowl at Hazel's brother. "Go _away_, di Angelo. It is way too early in the morning to have to deal with someone with a head bigger than what the sun looks like at the moment. Shut up and let me go back to sleep so I don't have to see your loathsome face anymore," I grumble at him and lie down on the temple floor in an attempt to catch a few more needed hours of sleep.

Of course, he does not shut up like I so kindly told him to. "You know, Santos, I am quite surprised. You carry an excellent conversation in the early hours of the morning," he tells me.

"Lovely," I respond, not really listening to him. "Now bugger off." I throw my right arm over my eyes to block out the weak light of the morning sun.

I hear footsteps and then I feel his presence disturbing the air next to me. "What are you doing out here, anyways?" he asks, obviously not caring that I am trying to go back to sleep.

"I could ask the same of you," I mumble.

Nico shrugs. "Got kicked out of Camp Jupiter, remember?"

I cringe. Of course I remember. I was the main reason why he was kicked out. "Oh. Of course." Then I frown. "Surely Hazel wouldn't refuse you of your room in the Fifth Cohort barrack?"

"Well it wouldn't be very polite of me to impose such a thing upon her, right?"

Again, he just _has_ to point out how I don't think things through. "So you came to Jupiter's Temple? Why wouldn't you go to Pluto's Shrine or something?"

Nico shrugs. "Does it really matter?"

"Er, yeah?" I say.

He rolls his eyes but does not answer back. He does, however, huff in an irritated fashion like I am committing some terrible crime for breathing the same air as him.

Of course, in response, my mouth exhibits the side effects of having metaphorical verbal diarrhoea: the inability to censor anything that comes out of one's mouth. "Jupiter Almighty, di Angelo!" I all but explode. "I know you're all upset that I'm not stabbing you with your damn sword of death or cursing you into oblivion or any of the normal doldrums I usually bestow upon you, but honestly, get over it already! I pinky-promise I'll do it as soon as I get a good night's sleep. Just let me take a bloody nap first!"

Silence. And then: "Holy Hades, you are so dramatic, Santos."

I blame all my sleep deprivation for the fact that my brain only zeroes in on the one word that sticks out in Nico's sentence. "Hades? Who's that?"

He lets out a low chuckle. "Sorry. I forgot...yeah. Er, you would know him as Pluto."

"Nico," I say after a long moment. "Why are you and Percy even here if ya'll are Greek?"

Snickering, Nico points out the fact that I said _ya'll_.

"Oh, get over it," I sigh at his immaturity. "I can sound country if I want to, di Angelo. Just answer my damn question or let me go back to sleep."

He's quiet for a very long time. I'm drifting between the fuzzy edges of consciousness and sleep when I think I hear him reply. I am not too sure if he actually did, though, because at the moment I am back in time stargazing with Percy on my balcony.

.

.

I wake up, pleasantly warm. Sunlight streams through the white columns of a temple. I stretch languorously and hear the satisfying _pop_ of a few vertebrae in my back. I then try to get up and work some of the kinks out of my knotted muscles, but a strange hand that does not belong to me is slung around my waist, hindering my ability to stand.

I peer down at this hand suspiciously. It is large-ish, pale, and decidedly male. I rack my brains and try to remember anything that involves sleeping with a man in some random temple. Nope. I'm not my father, for god's sake! _Well, considering it would have been a one-off with a woman and not a man,_ I amend my thought. Bleh. I never ever want to create such horrid mental pictures again.

Back to the hand. I twist around so I can see the owner's face. He looks cute. And if I'm not mistaken, around my age too. He has messy black hair, a strong chiselled jaw, yummy looking pink lips, and an alluring rugged European look to him. Huh. Even though I have no memory of him, I congratulate myself on my choice.

The hand on my waist tightens and draws me closer to the stranger. He burrows his face into the crook of my neck and places a sleepy kiss on my right shoulder. Then he mumbles something in his sleep and says my name: "Santos."

Once I hear his voice, everything comes clicking back into place. I wriggle out of his grasp wildly so I am in a standing position and then I stare at Nico with wide eyes. Oh my gods, what just happened?

My movements seem to have woken up Nico. He rubs the sleep blearily from his eyes and stares up at me dumbly. "What're you doing here, Santos?" he asks me.

So many recollections come barraging into my brain. I close my eyes and remember stargazing last night in my father's temple, waking up way too early in the morning for some nonsensical-sounding conversation with Nico, and falling asleep on the floor as I lay gathered in his arms.

Not to mention that he just kissed me. Granted, it was on my shoulder and that he was unconscious at the time, but Jupiter's master bolt, he _kissed_ me.

Theories and accusations swirl around in my brain like some cyclone brewing. I thought we were enemies. Enemies try to kill each other — Nico proved that to be true when he tried to suffocate me in the dining hall and when he gave me that cursed dagger. Enemies never ever try to kiss each other. Not even subconsciously. And enemies do not sleep with each other. Even if all we did was sleep, they do not fall asleep in each other's arms.

Gods, my life is a mess right now.

"I hate you," I say, slowly. I think I say it for more of my benefit so as to remind me that he is the enemy and that I should not be thinking the traitorous thoughts that I was thinking this morning.

"I hate you, too," he responds, not understanding at what I am trying to get at.

"I really, really hate you," I say.

"The feeling is mutual," Nico says back. His eyes are looking at me warily as if I am some bomb about to explode.

"I thought I told you to never talk to me," I tell him.

Nico shrugs. "I don't do well with listening to directions."

I glare at him. How can one manage to be so maddening? "What are you doing here?"

"I believe I asked you that first," is his response.

I make some noise akin to a feral growl. I am not much of a morning person, and staying up late only to be interrupted of the few hours of sleep I manage to snag is taking a toll on my nerves. Not to mention that my brain cannot function with cryptic answers and mocking responses so early in the morning.

Nico stares back at me coolly. I belatedly realise that he is just as stubborn as I am. Neither of us is going to give in to the argument and answer that stupid question anytime soon.

Damn my stupid pride. But he's got another think coming if he assumes that I am going to swallow my pride and let him win this argument.

I reach a finger out and poke him sharply on the chest. "Why are you here? Why did you come to Jupiter's temple last night?"

"I didn't," he says back with a smirk. "Wow, Santos, I hadn't thought that you were so tired that you could not process that it was morning when I woke you up."

Jupiter Almighty, why on Earth did Nico have to be so infuriating?

"You know what? I'm outta here." I hastily take the steps down out of Jupiter's Temple and rush towards the Fifth Cohort's barrack. For some reason, being around Nico annoys the shit out of me to the point that I cannot focus because I always want to get into an argument with him.

Thank the gods that he does not follow me to the barrack.

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**Author's Note: It's been awhile since I updated _Drops of Jupiter_. This chapter is really short. I'm sorry. Nobody's reviewing or alerting or anything, so...yeah.  
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	9. Tell Me

**Author's Note: My godly parent? Er, I have no idea, honestly. I've learned Greek mythology since I was six, but lately I've been studying Latin and the Roman empire. I'd be one of the hybrid demigods. As for my parent. . . Athena, most likely. I'm a smart ass, if that means anything to the goddess of wisdom.  
**

**Disclaimer: Mr Rick Riordan owns the Percy Jackson series. I own my words and this story.  
**

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**Train~ "But tell me..."**

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Chapter Nine: Tell Me

**_Camp Jupiter  
Monday July 29  
13.20 PM_**

"Hey, you, come see this!"

"Oh my gods, what is that thing?"

"Is it...?"

"No! It can't be!"

"Percy said they would be coming any day..."

"They're _Greeks_!"

And that is how my whole morning went. Every single speck in the sky somehow morphs into the Greek flying boat and everyone has to drop what they are doing and stare only to be disappointed by some bird or a shadowy cloud. Eventually my nerves cannot tolerate the absurdity of my fellow campmates any longer.

"They'll get here when they get here!" I shout. I am so frustrated with the gossiping campers who are practising at the archery range alongside me. "Until then, shut the bloody hell up about the Greeks!" I swiftly notch in arrow into my bow and let it fly. My temper actually seems to improve my aim and power: the arrow lodges itself into the centre of the target and quivers when it hits the wooden circle.

All around me is the deafening sound of silence. I can feel the scorching heat of everyone's eyes on my back. Hushed whispers start, and right away I know that I'll be ostracised by all of them come dinner. Apparently having a temper and losing your cool is frowned upon by the Romans. I huff and shove a piece of hair out of my eyes. Gods, I really need to work on this anti-social thing I have going on.

"What's gotten your knickers in a twist?" a familiar drawling voice calls out.

My blood pressure spikes up just from hearing his voice. Before I can register what I am doing, an arrow is notched and pointed straight at Nico. "Try me," I challenge in my deadliest voice. "Because so help me gods, di Angelo, if you dare to provoke me anymore, this arrow will be found lodged deep into that thick-headed skull of yours."

"Is that a threat?" he has the nerve to ask. A cocky grin is perched upon his lips.

I blink and my arrow is gone. I look up to see it flying straight at Nico. Omigods, did I just do that?

Nico has enough foresight to know that I would follow through with my words, and he immediately disappears in a gathering darkness of shadows as soon he sees the arrow leave my bow. My arrow passes through the air where his left shoulder would have been if he hadn't dematerialised himself.

Jupiter Almighty, I need to control this anger thing too. I doubt it is healthy to be aiming weapons at innocent civilians. Although, it is debatable that Nico is 'innocent'. He _did _provoke me.

"Miss, we are going to have to ask you to lower your weapon immediately," a tinny voice crackles over what sounds like an intercom. How that is possible, I have no idea. I am outside in the middle of the woods and no one is holding up a megaphone or an intercom.

I point to myself questioningly. The crowd of Roman campers nod their heads at me. After all, I _am_ the only one wielding a weapon at the moment.

"You are a threat to camper safety. Please proceed to the _principia_ for further disciplinary actions."

Now _that_ is a load of eagleshit. Pretty much everything here at Camp Jupiter is a 'threat to camper safety'. I mean, who gives teenagers a bow and arrow and expects them to play nice?

But because the guilt of disappointing Hazel weighs me down (I know she had _such_ high hopes for me excelling here), I reluctantly drop my weapon and obey the hidden intercom that is directing me back to the evil lair of Reyna. This is just what I need – another incident to put me farther up on Reyna's hate list.

.

.

"Who are you, and why are you so hell-bent on fucking up my camp?" she screams at me.

I bite my lip and look at the ground. It is pretty dirty. Reyna should look into some housekeeping or something.

"I swear to the gods, if you are a spy from, I dunno, the depths of Tartaurus, nothing can stop me from kicking your ass back to wherever the hell you came from!" Reyna threatens.

My gaze drifts over to the walls of the _principia_. The wallpaper is kind of out-dated. It's like the grungy eighty look so it is too recent to be called vintage yet too old to be considered modern. It is gross coloured too, like someone took a shit on it and threw up on it too for good measure. Just looking at it makes me want to vomit.

"Might want to renovate in here a bit," I suggest to her.

Her eyes widen in shock and then in anger. "Get out," she hisses, pointing viciously at the door.

"But my punishment –"

"GET OUT!"

"Alright, alright," I mutter, running out of that place as if my ass were on fire. "Gods, you don't have to tell that to me twice."

And that is how I find myself walking alone down these cobblestone roads. I do not know if Reyna meant for me to get out of the _principia _or out of the camp but I have grown slightly partial towards Camp Jupiter and despite my less than cordial reception here, I do want to stay longer than my few days here.

A dark figure comes running breathlessly in my direction. "Cori! Cori!" Hazel puffs out worriedly.

"Hey, it's alright. I'm fine, I'm fine," I assure her.

She comes to a stop in front of me. "Are you sure? What happened in there? What did Reyna say?"

"I, er," I begin hesitantly. Hazel's golden luminous eyes gaze up at me expectantly – how could I ever break the news gently to her and inform her that I have been kicked out? (I think.) "Well, for starters, do you know where di Angelo is?"

Hazel furrows her brow. "You're looking for my brother? No offense, Cori, but why? That's like the last thing I would have expected you to say."

"I know, right?" I laugh without humour. Truth to be told, that kind of shocked me too when I heard those words come out of my mouth. "But, er, it's kinda urgent. Possibly really urgent."

"Um, alright," Hazel says, still looking at me strangely. "I think he's over by the lake. C'mon, I'll walk with you over there."

"Great, thanks," I tell her appreciatively. Again, I have no idea why I want to go see Nico and talk to him. I have no idea exactly what I wanted to talk to him about. But there is this strange sense of urgency fluttering about in my mind and I just know that I have to go see him.

We begin our long trek down to the lake. Hazel is chattering on inanely, asking me about my stay here at Camp Jupiter and if I feel like a Roman yet (whatever that is supposed to mean). I find it harder and harder to refrain from mentioning how Reyna pretty much kicked me out of the camp.

Oh! That's what I wanted to talk to Nico about: being kicked out of camp. Is there like some sort of special guidebook to being an outcast? Are there certain things I am allowed to do now that I am not officially part of camp?

The stony path underneath our feet becomes slightly muddy and filled with soil from the forest. Little green ferns sprout across the pathway like tiny green runway lights. I see a dark shadow over by the edge of the lake right around the curve of the G shape the lake makes. Something tells me that that shadow is Nico.

"Um, he might not be terribly friendly after that little stunt you pulled with the arrow," Hazel cautions me. "But feel free to, you know, yell and argue and do whatever you two normally do with each other."

I get the feeling she is being sarcastic with me. I don't quite know how to respond.

Hazel gives me a friendly push in Nico's direction. "I've got to meet up with Frank in a few. But you go on. The worst my brother can do is curse you down to the Underworld."

Well. That was quite reassuring, wasn't it?

I take a couple steps in Nico's direction. I feel like I am walking towards my doom or something. He's quiet, skipping rocks along the surface of the lake, creating ripples in the otherwise smooth glassy liquid mirror.

"Santos," he acknowledges me in a flat voice.

"di Angelo." Does he know his last name sounds suspiciously like 'angel'? I would think him to be more of a devil in disguise.

Silence. A few more _plop, plop, plop_'s coming from the stones as they sink and drown. It is quite morbid, this skipping stone thing he is doing. You know, if stones had feelings.

"Something you wanted?" he asks after the silence becomes too loud. "Or did you just want another shot at my head?"

I glare at him in annoyance. Typical of him to bring up that incident with the bow and arrow. If I recall correctly, it was _he_ who provoked me into shooting at him. And, I wasn't aiming for his head. The arrow just so happened to pierce the air where his heart had been previously. If he had a heart, that is. I wasn't so sure when it came to Nico.

"Reyna kicked me out of camp," I inform him.

"Did she, now?" Nico asks with mild interest. He continues on with skipping the stones. At the rate he is going, none will be left on the beach by the time he leaves.

I make a face at him. "Naw, she just said that to shit on me," I roll my eyes.

Nico shrugs. "Wouldn't blame her. Your face is so ugly it could be mistaken for a lavatory."

My jaw drops open in shock at that. The nerve of the bastard!

"Might want to close your mouth," he advises with a smirk. "Flies are attracted to shit, you know."

"Funny how they aren't crawling all over you, huh?" I retort, stalking up to him. "Seeing as all the bullshit you say comes straight out of your ass."

Nico turns to me, finally giving me his undivided attention. "Seriously, Santos," he crosses his arms and arches an eyebrow at me. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I told you already," I say exasperatedly. "I got kicked out of Camp."

"It's about time someone told you the sun didn't shine out of your goddamned ass just because you're the daughter of Zeus," he snorts.

"Of who?" I question.

"Zeus," Nico repeats. "The Big Dude. The one with the lightning bolts? Your father? Jupiter?"

"Oh." I keep forgetting that Nico is a Greek. "So wait. Since I'm no longer part of Camp Jupiter, does that mean I am now Greek?"

Nico guffaws, big loud booming laughs that make me feel about two centimetres tall because of my ignorance. "Pluto Almighty, Santos. Do you even hear yourself?"

I scowl at him. "It was a legitimate question," I mutter.

He sobers up. "Santos. You're Roman. Nothing can change that. You're a daughter of Jupiter, not Zeus. You speak Latin and not Ancient Greek. Even if Camp Jupiter doesn't seem like home to you, it'll always be where you belong; not Camp Half-Blood."

"I just want to fit in somewhere," I sigh and pick up a rock. I try skipping it across the water like he had been doing before I arrived but as aforementioned, my coordination skills are truly shit. The rock drops into the water ungracefully with a melancholy sounding _sploosh_. It didn't even make a cute little _plop_.

Nico snickers at my poor attempt. "Here," he says, coming to stand near me. He picks up a smooth, flat stone and places it in my palm. He keeps his hand on mine and demonstrates the fluid snap of the wrist that makes the pebble bounce. "You've got to keep a steady arm and flick the stone out in a controlled, arcing manner."

I attempt once more. Just another _sploosh_.

Nico studies my technique with a frown. "Gods, Santos. You are truly rubbish at this."

"Thanks," I respond dryly. "I'm rubbish at anything water-related."

He shakes his head disbelievingly. "What the hell did you do to piss Old Barnacle Boy off so much?"

"Just pure shitty luck that my father is Jupiter," I deadpanned without any sort of humour.

"Yeah, being a child of the Big Three isn't all sunshine and daisies, is it?" he agrees.

I want to reply but then the sudden realisation that we are truly and actually getting along registers in my brain. Suddenly our whole interaction feels wrong. This isn't who we are. I don't like him, he does not like me. I can deal with that. This whole buddy-buddy thing where we agree on shit is what is incompatible with my mind.

As if he can read the thoughts flying through my mind, Nico's face goes blank and he subtly distances himself from me as the walls go back up, guarding himself from me once more. "Er, I best be off," he says awkwardly. "Unless . . . there was something you wanted to talk to me about."

"Er, yeah," I say. I shake my other troubling thoughts out of my mind and focus on the reason why I came seeking Nico out in the first place. "Er, what's there to do once you've been kicked out of Camp Jupiter?"

Nico snickers. "Honestly, I doubt Reyna kicked you out. What were her exact words?"

"'Get out'," I quote, not understanding the significance of them.

"And were you perhaps in the _principia_ when she so kindly told you that?"

"Yeah, so? What does that matter?"

He rolls his eyes. "You don't fuck with Reyna when you're in the _principia_. End of story. It's like the courtroom of Camp. So if you were being a smart ass with her, she's gonna tell you to leave. But she didn't kick you out of camp. And anyways, you are the daughter of Jupiter. This camp is centred on Jupiter. She could not possibly remove you from the premises without risking the wrath of the Big Dude himself."

"Oh." So now I feel stupid. Nico's reasoning is completely logical. I feel rather dumb for not thinking about the situation as analytically as he did. "Well, er, thanks. For explaining."

"Don't mention it," he answers before he does that creepy thing where he dematerialises into the shadows. I get the feeling that he means that particular expression literally.

.

.

Later in the day, I find myself in the middle of Astronomy when out of the blue comes Percy bursting into the class. At first, I am immensely frustrated by his intrusion – after all, the counsellor named Aubrielle was just getting to the good part about the history of the stars that made up the constellation of Aquila the eagle – but then I realise that his eyes are stormy blue with excitement.

"I need to borrow Cori," he tells Aubrielle hurriedly.

"Pardon me, who?" she asks while batting her eyelashes at him.

"Me," I stand up from where I was studying star charts and cross over to where they are. Within the past few minutes of this class, I had realised that Aubrielle is the biggest flirt on campus which makes sense considering her mum is Venus. But just because her mother is the goddess of love does not mean I am alright with her flirting her ass off with my ex-boyfriend. "Yeah?" I ask Percy.

His blue eyes shine with barely contained happiness. "She's here," he smiles happily. "Do you know where Hazel and Frank are? And Nico"

"Er, Hazel should be out on the trails right now. And Frank's off in Archery. As for Nico, he doesn't have a schedule anymore since he was banished from Camp. So who knows where the hail that kid is," I roll my eyes exasperatedly. Percy knew all of this already. If he had bothered to look at the dry erase board in the common room of the Fifth Cohort barrack, he would have seen all of our daily schedules written down. "But, er, _who_ exactly is here?"

Percy grins and Cupid please never shoot me with your arrow or I will wring your chubby little neck and break off your wings. I never want my face to look as sappily in love as Percy's does right now.

"Annabeth," he sighs blissfully.

"Right," I say slowly, sorry that I asked.

"We need to go round up the others," he says, snapping back out of his little love-filled fantasy. "Annabeth and the other Greeks are in a flying ship which won't fly well with the rest of Camp. Something tells me that Reyna will perceive them as a threat once she catches sight of the warship."

"Well no shit, Sherlock," I say exasperatedly. "Your girlfriend decided to ride in to save the day on a _war_ship out of all things."

Percy looks offended. "Don't blame Annabeth for that. Apparently Leo was the one who constructed the thing."

"Leo? Who the hail is _Leo_?"

"Hell if I know, but come on, Cori. We need to move our asses and find Nico and Frank and Hazel _pronto_."

"Oh, yeah," I mumble. And then we are off running towards the archery range where Frank will undoubtedly be.

"Frank!" Percy yells, waving his arms over his head to catch Frank's attention. Percy looks like an idiot, to say the least. "Frank! Frank!"

Frank fires off another arrow that hits the bull's eye of his target. Damn, he's pretty good.

"Frank! Frank!"

"Yup?" the Canadian Asian guy says, lowering his bow as he finally acknowledges us.

"First off, do you know which trail Hazel took?" I ask him. Percy shoots me a dirty look since he is used to being in charge and demanding answers out of people. I shrug. He would have never thought to ask Frank that question.

"Uh, she left for Smokey Falls about forty minutes ago. She should be back to the stables by now."

"Alright, thanks," I say. Then I look at Percy pointedly.

"What?" he asks me in bitterness. "You looked pretty fine dictating everything a few minutes ago."

I roll my eyes. Seriously. We could have an argument about authority later, but wasn't he the one who was saying this was a matter of urgency? "Whatever, Percy." To Frank, I ask: "Could you do us a favour, Frank? Percy's girlfriend is going to be flying in on a Greek warship out of all things, and Reyna's going to flip out and get all defensive once she catches sight of the monstrosity. Could you, like, warn her or something? Tell her to hold fire and all that old wartime-y stuff?"

Frank nods. "Sure thing, Cori." But I detect a trace of resentment on his face and hear him mumble underneath his breath: "Just because I get stuck with Mars as my father everyone suddenly thinks I know everything about war."

I want to reassure Frank that that was not my intention at all but Percy chooses this moment to butt in. "Hey, dude, do you have any idea where Nico is? I know he won't want to miss the Greeks' arrival."

"Try the mess hall. It's almost lunch time and gods know that kid likes to eat."

"Yeah, well, he's growing like seaweed," Percy agrees. "Nice talking to you, buddy. Don't forget to tell Reyna about the Greeks arrival or else we'll unintentionally be calling war against the Greeks in a few minutes."

"I'm on it, captain," Frank salutes Percy sarcastically and then heads over in the direction of the swordplay arena.

"Gods, Percy, chill out with the dictatorial power," I frown. "It's not cool."

He ignores me and says, "I'm going to go find Hazel. You go look over in the mess hall for Nico, alright? Meet up with you in fifteen."

I sigh. I really do hate the arrogance and thick skull that all teenage boys seem to possess. And the way they think they are always right. Honestly. Girls have brains too. But I don't voice any of these thoughts and tell Percy: "Yeah, yeah, see you at a quarter after." And then I am off to go find Hazel's sulky brother.

He is at the mess hall where everybody else predicted he would be. He's inhaling what looks to be a BLT sandwich at an unorthodox rate.

"di Angelo, slow down or else you'll end up choking to death!" I call out to him.

He flips me the British equivalent to the middle finger and scarfs down the sandwich even faster than I thought could be humanly possible.

"What the fuck do you want?" he asks around a mouthful of bacon, lettuce, tomato, mayonnaise, and bread.

"Gods, could you be more of a pig?" I say as I swing myself onto the bench opposite of him.

In a truly immature move, he opens his mouth to portray a lovely picture of half-chewed food.

"Ew, gross!" I squeal and reach across and shut his jaw. "Seriously, di Angelo. Shut your face."

"'Shut my face'?" he laughs as he mocks me. "That's not possible, Santos."

"Unfortunately."

"So what do I owe to your absolutely charming presence?"

"You know, your sarcasm is quite awful."

"Your face is quite awful."

"Your table manners are quite awful."

"You in general are quite awful."

"The Greeks that are going to freak out Camp Jupiter with their big ass warship are quite awful, don't you think?"

"Your insults are – wait, what?"

I shrug nonchalantly. "Oh, yeah. Your fellow Greeks and Percy's girlfriend are arriving on this warship any minute now and Reyna will undeniably call to fire on the flying ship and there's going to be one hail of a mess and it'll be all your fault because you are just sitting here eating a BLT as cool as a cucumber and you really are a disgrace to Pluto because you obviously don't give a flying fuck to anyone besides yourself and –"

"Gods, Santos, shut up and breathe already," he interjects rather rudely.

I do shut my face and breathe while I seethe at him, though. I'm rather good at multitasking; who knew?

"So when is Annabeth and her crew landing?"

"I don't know," I say, feeling quite incompetent at my lack of knowledge.

"And who, exactly, while be firing on the warship?"

"Er, the archers. Duh," I respond.

"Tell Frank to give the order to halt their fire. Duh," Nico answers back sassily.

"Er, pardon me, but I don't need your sass," I tell him snottily, getting distracted from the topic at hand by his unnecessary snark.

"Whatever," he says. "You love my sass."

I make a disgusted face. "Puh-lease."

Nico laughs. "You're just jealous, Santos, cos my sass trumps yours any day."

"Stop being such a wanker and focus back on the issue at hand," I whine.

"Yuh-huh. You don't want to admit my sass is soooo much sassier than yours."

"Alright, you sound like a freaking pansy right now, di Angelo."

He shrugs. "At least I'm sassier than you."

"WOULD YOU SHUT UP ABOUT MY LOWLY LEVELS OF SASSINESS?" I finally scream in annoyance.

The bastard is grinning like the Cheshire cat. "Thank you for admitting it. The first step towards treatment is admitting your problem."

"What the hail are you now; a bloody therapist?"

Nico snickers. "Chill, Santos. There's a flying warship here we've got to deal with."

A warship-shaped shadow chooses that moment to pass over the mess hall. "Well, shit," I curse at the ship's horrible timing.

"My thoughts exactly."

.

.

What happens next is a blur to me. I know that the ship floated above Terminus and his stupid boundary line. I know that a head of blonde curls stepped off the boat and tackled Percy to the ground and beat him shitless and then kissed and made up with him. I hate her already. She makes him smile a smile that I've never seen on his face before. She and him are so nauseatingly in love that I wish Cupid would pull out a lead arrow and hit her in the ass or something. I know that there were three other people on the flying ship: a pretty Native American girl who took one look at Nico and scoffed at his sarcasm (I then knew she and I would get along quite well), a Hispanic guy with curly hair that was cute in a Nick Jonas kind of way and was seriously ADHD (the bloke absolutely could not stay still), and then there was this blonde surfer-looking kid who seemed to be a celebrity of sorts at Camp Jupiter. His name is Jason. My half-brother.

But then the warship declared war against Camp Jupiter (I didn't quite understand the logistics behind all of that since the crew members seemed pretty friendly towards the Romans) and Reyna was all furious (as usual) and things were all sorts of messed up and arrows were flying and gods, it was chaos.

In the middle of all the pandemonium, though, Annabeth took one look at me and blanched. (Thanks, girl, totes like you bunches too.) She spoke something extremely weird and creepy: "Percy, um, this girl needs to come to Camp Half-Blood."

(Oh yeah. Before all this crazy shit went down, the plan was for everybody else to ride off into the sunset on that weird Greek warship and leave me behind at Camp Jupiter with Reyna. Sounded bloody awesome to me. _Not_.)

And that is how I find myself boarded upon the _Argo II _with seven other demigods who are all part of this strange prophecy that I cannot decipher. And yeah, I'm obviously not one of the seven, so what the hail am I doing on this warship with them?


	10. Did You Sail Across the Sun?

**Author's Note: supermegafoxyawesomehot, ya'll (:  
**

******Read the bottom if you want a chance to receive a Drops of Jupiter outtake!**

**Disclaimer: Oh, yeah. For those of you who are still wondering, the gobbledy-gook disclaimer in chapter six translates into "I do not own the Percy Jackson characters". That translation will also serve to be my disclaimer for this chapter (: Congrats to all of you smarticle people who cracked the code!**

* * *

**Train~ "...did you sail across the sun?"  
**

* * *

Chapter Ten: Did You Sail Across the Sun?

**_Argo II – Main Cabin  
Monday July 29  
19.11 PM_**

"Do you want to tell me what the hell happened down there?" Annabeth asks furiously, glaring at the guy with impish features whose face looks like it is always smirking with mischief. Right now, though, he gulps and studiously avoids her death glare. "I mean, what the _frick_, Leo!"

I stifle a giggle. Alright, so Percy's new girlfriend doesn't cuss like a sailor like I do. At least I don't sound as sincerely ridiculous as she does when I am angry.

She whirls around immediately and faces me. I try to school my features into a look of grave seriousness but I cannot find it in me to calm my laughter.

"And _who_, exactly, are you?" she bites out with a sour look on her face as if she had recently ate a citrus fruit.

"Cori."

She studies me, obviously not liking what she sees because her grimace becomes more pronounced with each passing second. "And _what_ are you?"

"Er, a human?" I say facetiously. Who is she? Juno in disguise?

"Santos is a demigod. The daughter of Zeus," Nico interjects.

"Oh, yeah, hey you," Annabeth greets him with a tight hug, her mood doing a complete one-eighty as they embrace. "Your cabin missed you, Bones."

He laughs. "Yeah, right. Any good murders in my absence?"

"What exactly constitutes as a 'good murder'?" the guy with the blonde hair and startling blue eyes asks Nico. Right. This guy is supposedly my half-brother. He doesn't wait for an answer and gives me the once-over. "Hey. I'm a child of Zeus, too. The name's Jason. Nice to meet ya, sis."

"Er . . . hullo. I'm actually Roman, though. Jupiter's daughter," I correct him.

"That's cool," he says affably. "I'm Roman by birth as well. Juno dropped me off at Camp Half-Blood for a couple of weeks cos she's trying to form some sort of alliance between the Greeks and Romans. So far, it's not going so well. I mean, my own camp attacked this ship!"

Annabeth purses her lips. "Yeah, so much for Romans being rational."

The Romans on the ship bristle at her insult. "I didn't see you doing much yourself," I hiss. "Sitting around on your lazy Greek ass and yelling and ordering people around doesn't seem like much help in my opinion."

Stormy grey eyes flash at me. "Listen up, _punk_. Just because you are the daughter of Zeus doesn't mean I give a crap about your hierarchy on the totem pole. I know what I'm doing and you better follow my directions or else you're kicked off the ship. Nowhere in the prophecy of _seven_ do you fit in. You're only coming along to Camp Half-Blood because you need to speak with the Oracle."

Hands on my hips, I jut out my chin and demand: "And why do I _need_ to see this Oracle?"

"Because you have this prophecy hanging over your head that you need to figure out immediately," is her curt response.

I stare at her incredulously. How the hail does she know about the prophecy Jupiter has been babbling to me about for the past couple of months? I feel a surge of irrational anger at my father for not even mentioning a word of the prophecy, though. Perhaps paying a visit to this Oracle will prove useful in the long run. I just have to somehow manage to put up with Percy's bitch of a girlfriend for a bit longer.

"Cori, Annabeth, chill, alright?" Percy asks us diplomatically.

One glance at his current girlfriend and I know the tension between her and me will not dissipate. It's quite obvious that she doesn't know about Percy's and my history. I hope she never finds out about it or shit will undoubtedly hit the stratosphere.

My luck truly sucks, though. Annabeth's eyes widen and dart between Percy and me. "_This_ is the Cori you've always been on about?"

Internally I smile at that admission. I never knew Percy talked about me to other people.

"Uh . . .," Percy shuffles his feet and runs a hand agitatedly through his hair. "Yes?"

Those grey eyes narrow suspiciously at me. "Hmph. Percy can I talk to you in _private_?"

Percy gulps but lets Annabeth drag him out of the main cabin and gods-knows-where. I feel a little sorry for him. Obviously Annabeth has control and sharing issues. I don't understand what he sees in her. According to his little ramble down by the lake my first day at Camp Jupiter, she is pretty smart and a natural leader. However, to me she comes off more as a smart ass who is bossy and overly dramatic.

"Gods, what's up her butt?" the drop-dead gorgeous girl with the choppy pigtail braids snickers once Annabeth is out of earshot. "I mean, wow, Cori. You really know how to piss Annabeth off."

Nico remarks: "Santos is quite talented at the art of sarcasm and pissing other people off."

"You should know," I answer snidely. "Takes one to know one."

"Ah, yes," Nico says with a grin. "But let's not forget that my sass is much better than yours."

The pretty Native American girl watches us amusedly. "Have you two ever thought about hooking up?"

Nico's and my reactions are immediate. He starts to gag and I put a good couple metres between him and me. "What? No!" we yell simultaneously with wide eyes and pale faces.

"Wow," Hazel laughs. "Calm down, ya'll. I am pretty sure Piper meant that in jest."

Piper laughs along with Hazel. "Yeah, sorry. Couldn't resist. I'm the daughter of Aphrodite, much as I hate it. You two have such great chemistry, though. It's too bad you use it negatively at each other."

Jason nudges her. "Pipes," he murmurs pointedly. "Let them be."

She shrugs. "Could you imagine it though? Their babies would be so pretty!"

I stare at her, completely flabbergasted. She is already imagining mine and Nico's children? I turn to face him, ready to say that Piper is obviously completely off her rocker, but he is staring back at me so intently with a strange look upon his face. It feels like he is trying to incinerate me or something. I blush and look down, my words dying in my throat.

"I, er, that is . . .," Nico stutters. He takes a deep breath and mutters to the ground: "I gotta get out of here." And then he melts into the shadows, causing this weird creepy tingly feeling to dance up and down my spine.

"Aw, Piper, you scared him away with your talk of babies," Frank jokes kindly, an arm slung casually around Hazel.

"Oh," Piper says softly. "I didn't realise it would affect him like that." She looks at me, her eyes a beautiful multicoloured painting drawn by Monet. It's as if her eyes are reflecting one of his water lily paintings that I saw in a museum when I was visiting Paris. "Would you mind expressing my apologies to him?" she asks me sincerely.

I furrow my brow. "Er, I am not exactly sure I am the best person to do so. You see, di Angelo really kind of hates me."

"Hmm," she hums, an answer that really doesn't answer anything. "Well, if you do see him, would you mind?"

I sigh. "Fine," I accept grudgingly and a bit reluctantly. "I point all blame to you, though, if he bites my head off."

Piper smiles happily. "He won't, if he knows what is good for him," she states confidently and grabs Jason's hand to study his wristwatch. "Wow, it is late," she comments. To Leo, Piper says: "Dude, do you think you could find a dinner somewhere in that magical tool belt of yours? I'm starving."

Leo shrugs and says: "I'm on it." And then he sticks a hand into his tool belt and _voila_! Out comes the essential American cuisine – hotdogs, hamburgers, veggie burgers (I quickly learn that Piper is a vegetarian), french-fries, milkshakes, potato salad, and apple pie.

"What the fuck," I say, totally flabbergasted. The curse word comes out unintentionally in my surprise. "How the hail did you do that?"

"I am a man of many mysteries," he winks at me.

I stare at him, practically willing the truth to come tumbling out of his mouth. When I'm hungry I really do not take any bullshit from anybody. Not even myself.

"Okay, okay, I'll tell you if you stop looking at me like that!" Leo proclaims. "Sheesh, it's like you're about to electrocute me or something."

I arch an eyebrow and tap my foot impatiently in response.

"Yeah, I want to know too, man," Jason says to Leo. "I thought your tool belt couldn't produce food or anything."

Leo scowls. "Yeah, yeah, take all the fun out of my tool belt, Lightning Boy," he gripes. "Okay, the secret is that I put all the food in my belt ahead of time. Happy now?"

"I'd be happier if you would pass out the food already!" Hazel calls out. "I could eat a ghost!"

Everyone else in the main cabin shudders at her statement. "Gross, Hazel," Frank lets his girlfriend know.

She shrugs innocently. "It's the truth." None of us doubt her.

"Oh, hey!" Jason exclaims in the middle of all of us gulping down our food like it is the last supper we will ever have. "Someone should go tell Percy and Annabeth and Nico that we're all eating right now."

Immediately everyone's eyes seek each other out. "NOT IT!" we all chorus. But again, since I apparently have such shitty luck, it turns out that my NOT IT was a little on the late side.

"Grumble, grumble, grumble," I grumble as I stick out my tongue at all of the other demigods. "Ya'll suck." I pick up my plate filled with a sample of all the food Leo pulled out of his tool belt and make my way over to the door of the main cabin.

"Don't forget to tell Nico my apology!" Piper yells as I cross the threshold.

I need to sacrifice more at the Feast of Fortuna or something because this shitty luck thing is getting rather old.

.

.

The two lovebirds are in this room completely filled with the latest electronics. Tellies flash in the background, some synchronised and some not which give the room a flashy look as different moving pictures scroll across the screens at different times. One telly is showing _The Breakfast Club_. Someone must really be into the classic 80s or something.

"Cori!" Percy yells out, looking quite relieved. I bet he is glad for my intrusion; getting your ass chewed out by Annabeth isn't on anyone's list of fun things to do.

"Cori," Annabeth echoes in a less enthusiastic manner.

"Er, hey," I say awkwardly. How can a person _not_ be awkward when in a situation with their ex and their ex's girlfriend? "Erm. Dinner's being served in the main cabin." I show off my plate of food like Savannah White does on that game show _Wheel of Fortune_. "I'd like to buy a vowel," I joke.

Annabeth purses her lips, obviously not finding me very humorous. "Well. I wouldn't want our food to get cold." She smiles tightly but her eyes are still so angry. Gods. She needs to learn to lighten up or something. "C'mon, Percy." She loops her arm through his and herds him out of the room.

I nearly laugh at her possessive behaviour. I know Percy will never be mine again. She doesn't need to act all bitchy about it and piss on the grass to stake her border claims on him. I am quite aware with the girl code of conduct where you look but don't touch your ex. Ever.

It's too bad that Percy and I can never be best mates again, what with Annabeth freaking out about any sort of interaction between him and me. I swear, she is going to be what breaks them up. No healthy relationship is built out of paranoia or someone who is over-controlling. But then I feel bad to be insinuating that I think that he and she are going to be headed towards Splitsville. For all I know, Annabeth could be the perfect girlfriend for Percy (I know he seems to think so). But from what I see, she is destructive and domineering. Percy's not exactly the type to be submissive. The two must balance each other out, though, since they seem to have lasted for quite awhile now.

My mission here done, I leave the media room in search of the Pain in Thy Ass. I wander up and down countless halls looking for him. Gods, why did Leo have to make this ship so big? I could've sworn that I have walked at least five kilometres looking for the Master of Elusiveness. Up and down I go, past tile floors, marble floors, slate floors, wood floors. Paper lanterns, twinkle faerie lights, lava lamps (seriously, _who_ is the person with the retro obsession?), normal boring hallway lights. One hallway looks like a catwalk; another, a scene straight out of the film _Titanic_ (ooh, Leonardo DiCaprio is _sooo_ hawt). But despite the rather impressive interior designing, I still do not find Nico.

Then, I think to try something I hadn't considered earlier. "di Angelo!" I shout, nearly screaming up a lung.

"_What?!_" he yells back, equally loud as he does his creepy shadow-morph thing right in front of my face.

"Styx!" I scream in fright, my mind coming up with a rhyme for my favourite swear word. "Wow, you really scared me there."

He smirks. "Yeah, I can tell. Your dinner is splattered all over the walls."

"Aw, _shit_," I moan. I turn around and survey the damage the wall has done to my lovely dinner. "No, no, no, no, no!"

"Relax, Santos. I'm pretty sure Leo can whip out another meal out for you."

"But I wanted _this_ meal," I pout, my lower lip sticking out petulantly.

Nico laughs. The sound makes me ridiculously angry at him; how _dare_ he laugh at me and my dinner-painted wall?

"Sorry!" I blurt out. My eyebrows are furrowed at him and my eyes are glaring at him. I wish I am Darth Vader so I can use the Force to choke him or something.

"Er . . .," Nico says, confused on why my words do not match up with my body language. "Alright?"

I growl at him. Yes, I actually growl and sound like an animal. "No!" I explode. "It's not 'alright'!"

He bites his lip to keep from smiling indulgently at me. "Alright, Santos. It's not alright."

"_Look_, bastard. You are walking a fine line here," I threaten. He nods his head and immediately straightens up, saluting me with his right hand.

"Aye, aye," he remarks in mock-seriousness.

"Stop being such a tosser," I whine. "Take me seriously!"

Nico shakes his head at me. "How can I when you're acting like a raving mental bint?"

I frown at that. Then I reconsider all my words I've exchanged with him in the past few minutes. Alright, so I'll admit I _do_ sound a bit mental. But only a bit.

"Piper wanted to apologise about the baby comment earlier, hence the apology," I explain. "And I hate you. As you can tell by the growling and the glaring and the I-want-to-choke-you-ing. There, do I _still_ sound mental?"

"Er . . . no," Nico responds, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

I pretend I do not see said smile. "Good answer." Then I go back to looking at my poor dinner that is sprayed in all sorts of directions on the wall behind me. "Fuck you for sneaking up on me," I tell him bitterly.

He rolls his eyes. "Whatever."

"It's not 'whatever'!" I scream at him. I have the irrational urge to want to shake his shoulders so he understands how serious this situation is. "My food is on the freaking wall when it should be in my stomach!"

"Oh, stop being so dramatic," he tells me. "Hey, look at this." He steps towards the edible mess.

"Don't you dare touch it and contaminate the perfectly good food with your nasty death germs!" I warn Nico.

He huffs. "Gods, Santos, the cow is already dead."

I mentally giggle at that statement since Juno is represented by a cow. I wish she were dead. She's not one of the nicest goddesses to me since I am the offspring of Jupiter and he and her are kind of married but Jupiter likes to have affairs with mortal women (like my mum) and now I am rambling so I should probably stop sometime soon. Like now.

Nico disregards my threat and reaches out with his thumb to wipe away some of the apple pie on the wall. Immediately, I am startled because bright golden light comes streaming through. What the hail? I thought Nico is like the demigod of darkness and the Underworld. Unless he is secretly a child of Apollo although I pretty much doubt that theory since Nico isn't rainbows and sunshine or anything. Just saying.

"Look, Santos. We're sailing over the sun."

I step closer to take a better look. Yes indeed, this warship is sailing over the flaming celestial ball that lights up the Earth. Oh my gods, how is this possible that we are so close to this glowing star of perfection without being incinerated or melting?

"Zoom windows," Nico explains, answering my question that I had silently asked in my mind. "Leo fitted all the windows on the ship to have the ability to zoom onto objects outside of the spacecraft. We're probably thousands of light years away from the actual sun."

I look out in awe. "I seriously love Leo right now," I proclaim, looking out at what powers the Earth and lights up the sky. Space is beautiful and I love these zoom window thingies that allow me to explore my domain as much as I want to. They're like HD telescopes with a wider range and scope and much clearer, sharper images. Also, it's real time since I am actually millions of metres above the clouds – therefore, I am not seeing the stars how they looked years ago since that is how long it takes for their light to filter down to the blanket of sky covering Earth.

Nico makes a funny face at my proclamation akin to the one he made earlier when Piper mentioned babies. I would've missed it completely since I am completely wonderstruck by the perfection of these zoom windows, but my luck isn't so shitty since I saw a glimpse of his profile in the reflection of the window.

"You alright?" I ask him, turning around. That funny face is making him look like he is in pain or something.

"Never been better," he tells me with a carefully blank face. "Er, well, I'm going to head up and get some grub. I'll tell them that you're going to be down here for awhile, am I right?"

I smile. "Sounds about right."

"Oh, and don't worry about the mess. I'll tell Leo to get one of his many automatons to clean it up. And to send down a new dinner for you."

"No, no, you don't have to do that. It's my mess. And it's my dinner," I argue.

Nico shrugs. "Stubborn woman." He gives me a half-hearted finger wiggle in lieu of goodbye and starts up the stairs. "Sorry for trying to be nice," I hear his voice say as it floats down to me while he continues up.

I blink in surprise. He was trying to be nice to me? Why?

But then the solar electromagnetic field flares up, burning brighter than anything I have ever seen before and I am blinded and distracted by the gorgeousness of the dangerous flames. All thoughts of Nico and his offer to be nice vanish up back into the atmosphere – just like the gas dancing around the sun's surface.

When you play with fire, you have to be prepared for the possibility of getting burnt.

* * *

**Author's Note: As always, review. But I'll throw in some incentive: The first three reviewers who review EVERY single chapter I've written so far (one through ten) will then get to pick one outtake of their choice. And by that I mean choose a character and a chapter and I will write from their point-of-view for a couple thousand words (it's not very hard for me to ramble, you know) and then I will private-message it to them. Once _Drops of Jupiter_ is all uploaded, I'll post the out-takes for everyone to read, but for now they will remain private between the reviewers and me.  
**

**So please, review all ten chapters if you are dying to know what Percy was thinking when Cori and him talk by the lake in Chapter Four or wondering about the prophecy concerning Cori, just to name a few examples of what I could write for an outtake. (Whoops. Talk about a spoiler alert. But if you're into that kind of thing, then by all means, review and I'll PM it to you.)  
**

**One thing, though. If you're going to participate in this event, please write a meaningful review. A simple 'Love it!' or 'Update soon!' is nice but vague. Oh, I almost forgot: include the phrase "If This Was a Movie" in some creative way in your review for this chapter so I know if you're participating in this contest. And anon reviews don't count in this contest because I will be unable to PM you anything.  
**

**Or just be lazy and only review this chapter. Shame on you, though. I would love to write you an outtake but your loss is others' gain. Just letting you know.  
**

**REVIEW!**

(Psst! **2** outtakes are still up for grabs! 8/2/13)


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